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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682184">Addendum</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualwriter865/pseuds/casualwriter865'>casualwriter865</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU Lord of the Rings, Canon Divergence - The Lord of the Rings, Gen, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:35:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualwriter865/pseuds/casualwriter865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Middle Earth fantasy involving, among other things, time travel, sacred blue pit bulls, and pop concerts with elves</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Concealed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>General knowledge is assumed on the part of the reader of The Lord of the Rings, both the books and movie series. If you don’t know what these are all about (and possibly even if you do), you may find the following confusing.</p><p>***Disclaimer***</p><p>The following is based on the Lord of the Rings books by J.R.R. Tolkien and the Peter Jackson LOTR movie trilogy. Most of the characters are from the series, except most notably for Tenlyssa Contar, who is an original creation. The Sindarin language is entirely Tolkien’s brainchild, and any errors in its use in the story are entirely mine, including the placement of accents, which was a time-consuming task, and the couple made-up words which will no doubt infuriate the more learned. </p><p>This was written for fun, not for profit. Also, there are some shades of inspiration from the delightful Mellon Chronicles, the full collection of which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/61841</p><p>Finally, check out this amazing graphic depiction of the Silmarillion’s Ainulindalë by Evan Palmer: http://www.evanpalmercomics.com/ainulindale</p><p>I referenced the interactive LOTR project map (http://lotrproject.com/map/#zoom=4&amp;lat=-1836.9375&amp;lon=2069.625&amp;layers=BTTTTTTTT) heavily when I was describing the travels of Tes and her various companions; again, any errors of place are entirely mine. Elfdict.com is the main source of elvish; not every phrase is translated in the footnotes, so this is the place to go.</p><p>I am not a Tolkien expert, although I am in love with his writings. Many of the scenes in the following story are inspired indiscriminately by the books, movies, music, artwork, and other works of fanfiction, which means there will be inconsistencies (many, many inconsistencies) that do not line up with canon. Let’s call it artistic license, shall we? </p><p>Not required listening, but definitely will enrich your life: Tolkien Road Podcast (https://open.spotify.com/show/3bSi49HNAQsWczeZ38s8Yp)</p><p>Music while you read:<br/>Sleeping At Last (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2rPrfUQoga2AiwGt8G617O)<br/>Official Mandalorian soundtrack (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DWTEvftu9yFoF)<br/>Elfcore (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6bWWP3J8R5metJyaH3d8mB)</p><p>Rating: PG-13 for graphic violence, strong language, peril</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I hear your voice on the wind<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>And I here you call out my name<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>"Listen my child, " you say to me<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>"I am the voice of your history<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Be not afraid, come follow me<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Answer my call and I'll set you free</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I am the voice of the past that will always be<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“I am the voice of the future<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Bring me your peace<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Bring me your peace and my wounds, they will heal”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~”The Voice,” Celtic Woman<br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few sentences were sufficient to shatter Tenlyssa’s happiness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are you still with her?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the recorded message demanded petulantly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re much happier with me and you know it. We have a connection that Tessa just can’t understand.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” With a sigh, the voice concluded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway, I know you’re busy, but call me. We need to talk. Seriously.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dial tone, then a soft final click.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes sat wringing her hands in her lap, sickness and dread flopping around in the pit of her stomach. Her world spun and her heart skittered. She had not been meant to hear that message, but it had been left on their shared house phone. She sat in numb silence, disbelieving her secret misgivings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Darion came home, he found her sitting in the same place by the machine, pale and still. His bag and keys slipped to the floor. “You’re here!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were going to be out this whole weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared down at her limp hands, unable to meet his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is great!” he continued with forced enthusiasm. “You can listen to my new track, give me some feedbee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes whispered, “Who is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The woman on the machine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A terrible suspicion gripped him, and he pressed the play button on their voice mail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are you still with her?-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes visibly flinched at hearing the voice, but Darion smashed pause immediately, cutting off the rest. He remained on his knees, staring numbly at the machine, and from the way his shoulders froze and his eyes darted furtively to look at Tes, she knew he was guilty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stormed out at a run, leaving him in his shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he saw her again, it was dark outside and she had packed. She was wearing a long coat over a dark green tunic, soft suede pants, and sturdy boots. Gloves hung from a strap on her sleeve and a gray woolen hat had been tugged down over her thick red curls. On her back was settled a pack that he recognized - a survivor’s kit that contained enough supplies to sustain one in the wilderness indefinitely, if needed. The sack for the bivouac and sleeping bag was strapped to the top, and a crossbow with a quiver of arrows hung down from the back, along with a disassembled fishing pole. A long hunting knife was sheathed at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stormed past him in the kitchen, and the force of her passing shoved him against a counter as she reached into the cupboard and came out with a fistful of small wrapped bars. They were an old family recipe, a thick type of bread that could provide a full meal with just a few bites. She filled her coat pockets on both sides with the bread and filled a water bag from the sink faucet. She barely heard Darion’s spluttering protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing by the door, she bent down and laced up the boots tightly, then shoved the gloves on and threw open the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TES!!!” His bellow finally penetrated the walls she had thrown up around her consciousness. She paused, one hand on the doorknob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just leave!” He protested. “You can’t keep doing this! We have to talk about this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You talk,” she spat bitterly. “Talk to your true love on the machine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tes, please, stay,” he begged. “You never let me speak. Please, hear my side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a strain of desperation in his voice, and it reached her. Reluctantly, she stepped back in and shut the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time that day, she met his eyes, and he took a step back, startled by the hard flecks of fury in the icy green gaze. “Speak, then.” Her voice was hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faced with her damning accusation, he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His heart filled with a deep fear, and anger met his shame and overwhelmed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are going to leave, then leave,” he snapped. “This is all your fault, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard me,” he said bitterly, looking away. “You made this house a living hell.” His words came out faster and he gestured harshly. “I have never felt like more than a guest here, and you always let me know I wasn’t good enough for you. Well, now you know how I coped with staying with you for so many years. Now that it comes to it, I’m glad you know. I’m glad you found out. If I never see you again, it will be too soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could not have hurt her more if he had slapped her. Rejection stung more deeply than the deepest wound, and her breath came fast and hard. She clutched the wall to keep from falling over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, in a low and dangerous voice, she said, “Don’t you want me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gritted his teeth and his resolve hardened. “No. I don’t want you.” In that moment, faced with her icy recrimination, he spoke the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next sound that emanated from her was so frightening that he flopped to the floor. Tes shrieked, mouth wide and eyes screwed shut. She did not draw breath for almost a whole minute. Hands drawn into fists and arms straight at her sides, she screamed and screamed - at him, at their home, at the loss of a life once loved and certain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frantic, he covered his head and feared for his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When at last she stopped, hoarse and spent, she pulled viciously at a cord around her neck. It snapped apart and she flung the key to their home at his head. “Damn you. Keep it, then,” she rasped. “You get your wish. You will never see me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glass window on the door shattered at the force with which she slammed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as she stumbled down the snowy walk, sliding but not falling, until she disappeared into the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house phone clamored, and he jumped a foot in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart pounding, he snatched up the receiver with trembling hands. “Yes? What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is everything all right?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” questioned the concerned voice of their neighbor. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We just heard the most gods-awful yelling.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, everything is fine,” Darion covered hastily, masking the shaking in his voice. “We just had a movie on too loud. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, okay. You’re sure?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, good night.” He hung up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat unmoving in the dark all night, her scream echoing in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bank of clouds covered the moon and stars, but Tes knew the way blind through the burroughs and hollows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked her way between the slopes of the mountain until reaching the tree. She shivered, though not from the cold, as she curled in one of the deep depressions created by its massive roots and hid her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not her imagination, though she believed it was, when the roots tightened ever so slightly, shielding her from the outside world and concealing her grief. There she remained for a day and a half, and none in the world could find her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Elegy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A trickle of water splashed on her face, waking her from a dull sleep. She spluttered and coughed, then turned her face upward and took a deep drink of the cool stream. Not every source of water in the woods was safe to drink, but this came from melting snow and did not contain any toxins. Its clear taste refreshed her and she felt some strength return. More than that, she sensed the first glimmerings of hunger in over a day. Sitting up, she reached into her pockets and pulled out a small piece of bread. She nibbled on it thoughtfully as she studied the roots arching over her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staying here wasn’t  an option. She was starting to feel cramped and stiff, and she wanted to disappear further into the mountains. She did not have long-term plans, but this would not be the first time she had gone on a long sabbatical in the wilds, and the prospect of roughing it did not perturb her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing the last crumbs of bread, she checked her small stash of supplies, tightening straps and confirming that everything she needed was still there. Then, she reached up and patted the rough bark. “Thank you, my friend,” she said quietly, laughing inwardly at her own affection for an inanimate tree. This particular one had been ancient when she was a child, and in private she had often sought comfort in its hollows when something was bothering her. She had come to think of it as a companion and even had a name for it: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tasar</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a word that she believed meant “tree” in a long-dead classical language.</span> <sup>[1]</sup>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We will see each other again,” she promised. “You might be the only one who I actually will want to see again,” she added in a disheartened mutter. The edge of grief was dulled, but it lay painfully just below the surface, and she did not want to dwell on her reasons for running away. Rising from her shelter, she climbed out and laid her hand on the bark’s surface one last time, then gathered herself and set out for a hidden trail that would take her into the wilds far away from all human civilization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The notion that there were once other types of civilization in this world would never have occurred to her even as a fantasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tasar sensed her passing and took it as part of the comings and goings of small beings with much briefer lifespans than their own. They had felt the truth of Tes’s promise to return; it would be many months from her perspective, but barely a blink to Tasar, who settled back into slumber. They loved the small human, despite not having much affection for others of her race, and would welcome her return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They woke a little as a deep memory stirred. Not from their own history, but buried much farther back, from long before they were just a seedling. A recollection of laughing green eyes, tossing red hair, and beautiful music playing under another’s branches. Tasar felt in their roots that one very like the small human had passed this way before in ages past in the endless present in which trees lived. Puzzled, they pondered this for a long while, while a rumbling murmur traveled up and down their trunk and shook their foundations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after a week or so by common reckoning, Tasar reached out and sent out a query down the endless root system that connected all the trees of the forest: an image of her face, and a word: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maid?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes worked her way far into the vast reaches of the mountains, hunting and fishing as she went along and making camp in discrete clearings. Days turned into weeks and a frosty numbness settled around her heart. Her hands tied knots and strung arrows by rote memory; every shot felled its intended prey and every line caught fish while her mind wandered aimlessly, lost in its own ruminations. She found herself eventually in unfamiliar territory, but she didn’t stop. Every time she considered going back, her mind shied away from the consequences, so she continued on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nights grew shorter and days grew longer, and the need for additional layers of clothing abated as the weather turned warm. Spring came on and game became even more abundant. Tes discovered a ruin in the sixth week of her sojourn located close to running water and in the path of a migration of white-tailed deer and decided to stay a while. Walking on stone between two colonnades supporting a crumbling roof, she cleared away an area in the back and cast the bivouac. There, she made a more permanent dwelling, weaving walls from vines and leaves and creating a small chimney from stones to smoke fish and jerky. She harvested soft grass and stuffed her now unneeded coat to make a long cushion for sleep. When she was not busy hunting, harvesting, or fishing, she walked in the ruins and made rubbings of the ancient writing on the walls and columns. She took note of stair cases with ornate balustrades and wondered who had lived there and what their lives had been like. What motivations had governed their days and made them build this outpost? She was relatively proximate to the White City, and the history of that place went much further back in time than its own records kept. Modern times had largely erased what history was known, and all that her people had left of the dim past was snatches of phrases from forgotten languages and fantastical legends. Her best guess was that the ruin in which she now inhabited had once been a military base of some sort, guarding against some bygone enemy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that place, far away from her own sorrows, she even found space in her heart to craft a wooden flute and write a few simple melodies. The acoustics in the chamber she had set up as living quarters lent themselves to an intimate resonance, and she vaguely wished she had brought a recording device. The melodies were nothing special, but they eased her sadness for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lived quietly and even happily for a few more weeks as spring waxed into summer. The nights were short and warm and the days were long and sultry. It did not seem as if she would ever leave, and hardship receded into unreality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes waited silently on the forest floor, concealed by brush near an oft-used game trail. The sound of footsteps falling through the rustling leaves alerted her from a semi-trancelike state, and she cocked the crossbow softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about the footfalls sounded off, not like those of a deer. Perhaps it was a larger animal, a wolf or bear. She was not interested in facing off against a large predator, and so she backed further into the underbrush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The swishing of leaves drew closer. A dark cloak with glimpses of human shoes came into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feet approached while she held her breath. They stopped a few yards away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low voice spoke in Common: “I know you are there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart hammering in her chest, Tes slowly rose from a crouch and revealed her position. She kept the crossbow carefully pointed at the forest floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed fiercely and asked, “How did you see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard your music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tes thought. Of course the flute would attract attention. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t seem to get any peace.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger’s face was concealed behind an opaque veil. They gave off an odd feeling, and Tes immediately resolved to break camp and leave the area as soon as she possibly could so as to get away from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Tes apologized. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” The voice heightened, and Tes recognized a feminine timbre. “No, it was beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes did not know what to say, and so she said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you play for me?” the stranger asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes’s heart sank. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Then, she recalled an old excuse she had once heard used effectively by another musician.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but not for free,” she answered. “I’m only out here to camp, not to play concerts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought she had sized the stranger up, but to her surprise the woman laughed, and it was actually kind of a pleasant sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” she said. “I will leave you alone, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned and started back on the trail in the direction she had come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes’s guilt stirred, but she firmly told herself to hold still. She would not play for this person, no matter how forlorn she seemed. Tes had come out here to be alone, and alone she would remain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman paused and half-turned back. “Do you know the history of the ruins you are staying in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Great, let’s drag this out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tes shook her head and said, “No, I do not.” She tried to indicate by her tone that she was not interested in follow-up information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were once part of a fortification,” the woman said over her shoulder. “Many died bravely in its defense. An elegy would honor their passing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bowed her head and resumed walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Many died?</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought Tes. She was hardly superstitious, but still… what a creepy thing to say. Also, who was this woman to demand any elegy? Tes wasn’t her personal bard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Outta here,” she muttered to herself when the woman swung out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes stormed back to the ruin, furious that she would have to leave after having made such a comfortable home. She threw her things in the pack, leaving up the walls and ensuring that the fire in the chimney was thoroughly doused. The jerky she wrapped in leaves and shoved in a front pocket. It did not take long to break camp. As a final step, she took the coat stuffed with grass and shook it out with more force than needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made it to the entrance when her conscience stopped her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing deeply, wondering if she was still under observation and deciding she probably was, she turned around, set the pack down, and reached into her coat pocket for the flute. It would not hurt to honor the dead, even if they had passed centuries ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat cross-legged on the ground and closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, her breathing fell into a regular pattern and a slow, reverent theme occurred to her. Lifting the flute to her lips, she began to play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tune was simple and gentle, yet rendered with mournful feeling. It lifted higher, Tes putting all her wind behind one soaring note before a cascading scale ended in a low, quiet swoop downwards. She imagined that she saw the faces of the dead and wondered about their families and squandered futures. Futures that had been wasted, like hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pain caught at her heart - the first flicker she had felt in a long time. She stopped playing and lowered the flute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to keep her voice steady, she sang:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who will remember the lost dead?<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>    Who marks their passing down the long years?<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>        Are there any left who can restore their names?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Their unknown futures left to shadow<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>    Their faces once enshrined on marble walls<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>        Now rubbed smooth by the erosion of many hands</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
    <span>“May your names one day be heard </span><br/>
<em>
    <span>    May your legacy one day be understood<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span>        And may we who live honor you by our integrity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezed her eyes, feeling tears well up. For a while she sat in silence, her face crumpled as a wave of emotion washed through her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although she half-expected the mysterious stranger to reappear, no one came. She repressed a pang of disappointment and, leaving the flute on the ground, left the ruin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes of steady hiking later, she paused at the sight of something shining indistinctly in a pile of leaves. Curious, she reached down to pick it up, and abruptly vanished.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><sup>1</sup> Tasar is a derivative of tasarin, which means specifically “willow” in elvish. Tasar is not a willow tree, but Tes is unaware of the mistake, and Tasar does not particularly mind. Source: https://www.elfdict.com/w/tree</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Trap sprung</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bright lights exploded behind her closed eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes groaned and tried to orient herself. Had she just had some kind of attack? Fainting spell? She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were voices shouting around her and running feet. Someone was calling for a healer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Tes groused, squinting and trying to sit up. “I don’t need any healer.” Hands pressed her down and she immediately reacted with force, pushing them aside and rolling to her knees. She had intended to spring to her feet, but her legs weren’t working correctly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dizziness struck her and she reeled. Torches and sculptures and white walls spun around her erratically, and gloved hands reached out to either stabilize or restrain her. She shoved them all away and careened over to a nearby wall, using it to steady herself. For a moment, she was so disorientated that she wasn’t certain which way was up. She could not make sense of the visual input she was receiving. Words sounded garbled in her ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t aware of it, but she was making an even more alarming impression. In the moments before her arrival, the air had collapsed in on itself with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then exploded outward in a blast of light. From the middle of the explosion, a green figure fell prone on the marbled floor, and as guards came running from down the hall, a shining object fell from senseless fingers to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards didn’t know what to make of the strange clothing and mistook the figure for a young boy, whom they tried to rouse with rough shaking. If they had seen Tes as a woman they would not have handled her at all; the rude awakening had sent her into a panic, and now she hunched in the corner like a wild animal, eyes white in a grubby and sweaty face. Her appearance was completely at odds with the elegance and beauty of the white halls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold him still,” someone ordered, and hands again reached for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She responded violently to the contact, grasping the guard’s arm and rolling him over her shoulder, then flipping him onto the ground and disarming him in one fluid motion. His spear clattered down the length of the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t touch me,” she snarled to the shocked faces around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” a voice called. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the soldiers answered, “I don’t know, some kind of wild peasant!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lunged for her again, and an energetic struggle ensued. Two grabbed her arms and the other two kicked her legs out from under her so that she landed helplessly on her knees. Another man came running down the hall towards them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped abruptly, catching sight of the strange object Tes had dropped to the floor. He stared at it, then cautiously bent down and picked it up. Walking up to where she was held, he glared and said, “Who are you and what is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tenlyssa, and I have no idea,” she answered tartly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gray eyes narrowed. “Where did this peasant come from?” he asked one of the other soldiers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know, my lord. There was a bright light and then he fell from thin air.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leveled another fierce look at her. “What magic did you use to gain entrance here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bite me,” Tes snapped. “I have no idea how I got here. Get these guys off of me.” She punctuated her words with a sharp jerk. Their grip tightened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, what do you want us to do with him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bring him to the lower guest quarters and release him there. Place a guard on his door. I will interrogate him presently after I’ve conferred with the king.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grasping the lustrous object, he turned and walked swiftly away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The king stood in his private study, gazing thoughtfully out the window at the broken silhouette of a distant mountain range, hands clasped behind his back. A light footfall sounded outside his door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened quietly and a graceful figure walked in. “Your pardon for intruding, my lord, but there has been a disturbance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The king turned from his vantage point and smiled at his second. “You are not intruding, Faramir. Tell me the nature of the disturbance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir bowed quickly, his eyes troubled. “A peasant was found in the halls of your quarters, youthful in face and poor of cloth. No one can account for his arrival, and they are saying that he fell out of thin air. He was carrying this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He proffered the metallic item. The king took it and weighed it; it was heavy and shaped strangely. Twists and turns in the metal glistened in odd ways, and light seemed both to slip from its surface and emanate from within. He turned it over in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does this peasant have to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing useful. He only stated that he did not know how he came to be in the palace and demanded his release. He was rude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Rude?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Embarrassed, Faramir shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “He spoke arrogantly, and his manners lacked courtly grace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That may be expected from a peasant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, my lord.” He frowned and nodded at the piece of metal. “What is that thing? Is it magical? It seems to have a quality of power to it, though its exact nature I know not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure; it bears further examination. I will ask the queen’s assistance. Where is the peasant now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ordered him taken to a lower guest quarter and detained there. I mean to question him at once on the nature of his arrival.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The king nodded his approval. “He should be given water and food as well,” he said. “Perhaps that will soften his bearing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It will be done.” Faramir turned to go, then stopped by the door. “Aragorn? It is odd, but he seemed well-fed enough. There was no pallor in his cheeks, nor did he look gaunt in appearance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is indeed strange.” The king puzzled over this, then said, “Question him well, Faramir. I would know his full business within these walls.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir bowed in acknowledgement and departed with the same graceful step as his coming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The king called in his attendant and ordered, “Please request my lady’s presence here at once. I require her counsel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir’s word reached the guards before he himself, and food and water were brought into the quarters where Tes was being held. The meal was simple bread and cheese, and Tes did not partake. She could not believe that it was offered out of positive intentions. After the lead soldier’s departure, she had put up as much as a fight as she could; one of the guards had cuffed her upside the head, expecting her to cow like a scolded youth; instead, the blow had only incensed her further, and her rampage had only been stopped by the sharpness of a sword pressed against her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the Valar, you will come quietly, or I will see that you are dragged by your ankles,” growled a grizzled guard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snarled something indistinguishable, but stopped fighting. The sword frightened her enough to earn her cooperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wherever she was, the people here were obviously insane and played by different rules. She would have to be patient and look for a good time to break out. She imagined the ideal moment would come at night; until then, she would remain docile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone in the room, she took off her coat and laid it on the bed; she couldn’t help but admire the fine needlepoint in the woven coverlet. She removed her hat and laid it on the coat, then ran her fingers approvingly down the side of the cloth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is beautiful,” she said softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time, she noticed the dirt on her own skin; weeks of roughing it with little bathing would do that. She must stand out in these tasteful surroundings like a smudge on white linen. Grimacing, she took her hand away, then looked at the jug of water sitting on the same platter as the food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still wasn’t sure it was potable, but she could use it to clean up at least a little. She took a small cloth from her ever-useful pack and dipped it in the water, then wiped her forehead and cheeks. She wrung the cloth out, and the dirt on it stained the clear liquid brown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed. She must be quite a sight; hadn’t the soldiers been referring to her as a “he” this whole time? Perhaps their rough treatment wasn’t only due to them being boorish and insufferable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Aragorn had predicted, her demeanor did soften as she considered her predicament from a more logical position. How she had come to be in this strange place, she still could not fathom, but it was just possible that she wasn’t in immediate danger. In her mind, it seemed most likely that she had been knocked out in the woods and then carried and left here. The thought did not comfort her - the notion that she might have been kidnapped was thoroughly disturbing - but it remained to be seen whether or not these soldiers were the culprits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just recollecting with a frown that she had been camping near the White City, and that every wall and floor in this place was gleaming alabaster, when the guard outside exchanged a soft word with someone else and the door swung open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Farmir entered, and catching sight of her, he stared openly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She met his eyes, wondering why he looked so surprised, then glanced to the side self-consciously. “Um…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a woman,” he clarified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She shot him a veiled look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I apologize for your treatment; it was not apparent at first with your… strange dress.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced at the coat and hat laid out on the bed. She followed his look, then shook her head pityingly. “It’s just what I wear when I go backpacking,” she said honestly. “It isn’t really that unusual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just when you thought the world had moved on…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to speak and was startled again when she raised a hand and cut him off. “Sir, I don’t know who you or anyone else is in this place, and I don’t know how I got here. I’m sorry to upset things, but I really would just like to leave. I don’t have any reason to be here. I was truthfully just hiking when I got knocked out or something and woke up here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The disapproval was evident in his face, yet Faramir nodded courteously. “You say you do not know how you came to be here. Do you know where you are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tes said, and admitting it frightened her more than she wanted it to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are in the capital city of Gondor. The king’s palace, in fact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Where?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The confusion was evident in her eyes, and it only served to puzzle Faramir more. “Minas Tirith. The White City,” he said, using the fair city’s common nickname out of the chance it might seem more familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Recognition sparked, and he saw that he was right. “I knew it,” said Tes. “I didn’t know the White City had another name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valars’ sake, what education did you receive?” Faramir chided. “You are sorely under-informed. You reside at present in the city of kings, Minas Tirith.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit.” Fear was making her slightly giddy, and the words slipped out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir’s eyes widened; he had not heard an expletive spoken aloud in a very long time. Tes could tell that she had unsettled him, and she felt immediately sorry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” she said, attempting to redirect the conversation. “I don’t mean any disrespect. I’m just not familiar with your names or customs. Like I said, I wasn’t really planning on coming here. I was on an extended vacation and was sort of hoping to avoid human contact altogether.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arwen Undómiel, half-elven queen of Gondor and wife to King Elessar, entered, and the room seemed to glow in response to her presence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no one like the lady Arwen - none could match her unearthly beauty, and when she smiled, Aragorn felt his heart might cease beating from too much love. Not until the moment they met had he understood the phrase “kind eyes,” but looking into the elf woman’s deep blue gaze, he knew to the core of his being that this was a good and kind creature who could not possibly harm any living soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Aragorn stared in awe, Arwen’s sweet face wrinkled with merriment.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They greeted one another in gentle elvish, holding one another and resting against each others’ foreheads. Aragorn then showed her the strangely shaped object in his palm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She touched it carefully. “It is a relic,” she told him, trouble clouding her gaze. “I do not recognize its origin, but I can sense that it is active and channeling power from somewhere else. Where was this found?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Briefly, he summarized the events that had led to this item being in the palace, as well as the unknown peasant boy being held below. Arwen frowned as the mystery deepened. They examined it together, wondering if they had ever seen anything like it and where to start looking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Its shape is no accident, haphazard though it may appear,” Arwen said. “We must study this and learn its… function…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She broke off; a sharp, icy pain gripped her heart, and her light dimmed suddenly. “Valar’s grace...” she gasped, then staggered and fell. Her skin turned as white as the walls of the palace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn dropped the object on a table and leapt to her side. He caught the queen and half-carried her to the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meleth nÎn,” he cried, “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she breathed weakly. He placed a hand on Arwen’s forehead and was startled at how cold she felt. It seemed as if she were dying on the spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arwen,” he whispered. He pressed her hand and spoke a few quick words of prayer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His own face nearly as pale as the queen’s, he stumbled towards the door to call his attendants, but his movement was arrested from the sound of clattering. He faced around and saw the metal object beginning to vibrate and radiate beams of light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shook, and the air shimmered with heat around it. Before his wondering eyes, it lifted into the air and hung about eye-level before him, and it glowed with a brighter and brighter glare. The atmosphere of menace was unmistakable; Aragorn recognized evil magic when he saw it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crying out, he drew his sword and struck at it; the resulting shockwave tossed him across the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dazed, he picked himself up slowly and could only watch as the thing began to spin, picking up speed and whipping the air around it into a frenzy. Papers flew about the room, caught in a wind that had gathered to a gale force in a few seconds. Aragorn shielded his eyes from the object’s brilliance. He pushed against the winds towards it, thinking that if he could grasp it and pull it from the air, perhaps he could disrupt it before it completed whatever task it had been set to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached into the light and was startled to see a gash forming around it, like an open wound. Within the wound raced a shadowed figure, dashing across it and then disappearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn threw himself at the figure and tumbled out of his reality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the guest quarters below, both Tes and Faramir felt the earth tremor. Curtains swayed of their own accord and dishes slipped and clattered to the floor. Tes gripped a bedpost and fought back a wave of nausea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir, grasping the arm of his chair, shouted over the noise, “Is this your doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Tes didn’t understand the question; how could an earthquake be her doing? She shook her head, then suddenly shouted in alarm as she looked at Faramir. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” he asked, and she could only point in horror. His body was growing translucent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down at his hands and watched in dumb amazement as they began to discorporate. “What have you done?” he demanded - just as he and all their surroundings dispersed like smoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shaking stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes, kneeling on the floor where she had been thrown, watched the room flicker out of existence and heard a swish-</span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> as her coat and hat fell to the floor from where they had rested on the bed. She was left alone in a darkened, moldering room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards had stripped of her weapons when they had subdued her, and she found herself wishing fervently that they had not.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Changed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The air in the room turned cold - Tes could see her own breath. Stories of cold spots and spectors filled her mind, and she clasped her arms tightly. She shuddered and looked wide-eyed around the room, alarm filling her at how completely the graceful surroundings had transformed. Where there had been fine linens and intricately-carved bed posts, there was now a rotted and decrepit structure that barely looked like a bed. The covers looked as though they might turn to ash with the slightest touch. All the color and light had leached from the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes rose cautiously to her feet, nose wrinkling at a new foul smell. “Hey, uh…” she quavered. “Hey, could you come in here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was speaking to the guard outside, but no one answered. She stepped towards the door and pushed it aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It swung sideways on the hinge with a distressed </span>
  <em>
    <span>creak</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No one stood in the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held the door partly closed and gaped. The face of the hallway had been similarly perverted; white walls had become dingy with gray and black streaks. The unpleasant odor was much stronger out there, too. Fine sculptures lay crumbled on the ground, and standing metal suits of armor had been dulled by tarnish. The floor itself listed unevenly, and the stone bricks lay jumbled against one another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All had changed in moments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes shut the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily and trembling. She had heard stories of people falling out of the world into twisted permutations of reality, but like anyone else she had interpreted these as ghost stories and myths. It didn’t seem possible that anything like this had actually happened to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and collected herself, then picked up the coat and shrugged it on. Tugging the hat down over her eyes, she shouldered the pack and pulled on the leather gloves hanging from straps on her sleeves. Covering her nose against the smell, she stepped cautiously into the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Picking her way over the broken floor, she passed shattered sculptures and ruined tapestries. At the end of the hall, she paused and peered around the bend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To the right, there was a suit of armor on the back wall that someone had graffitied. On the helmet were scrawled black scribbles for eyes, and the visor had been given a deformed grin. A crude arrow had been drawn on the breastplate and red ink added for blood splatters trickling down towards the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning in disgust, Tes looked to the left - an empty corridor ending in a corner. She chose that direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where had all the guards gone? These areas had been practically bustling earlier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes would have called out, but the chill in the air seemed to have stolen her voice. She moved as quietly as possible down to the corner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shambling footsteps reached her ears, and she crouched down. The steps were accompanied by a clinking noise as if from poorly made armored boots. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carefully, trying to ensure that only one part of her face and an eye were visible, she sighted around the corner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever it was moved slowly with a hunched, skulking posture and carried a wickedly curved scythe. She could not see the face or make out any features, though she was certain it was not one of the stately soldiers from earlier. Her intuition warned earnestly that this was an encounter to be avoided, and she pulled back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weapons. She needed weapons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought of the graffitied armor, and although she did not want to go near it, the decorative spear it carried might be useful. She retreated to it and carefully pried the lance from the metal grip, trying not to look at the helmet or breastplate. Carrying the weapon to the side and slightly in front, Tes returned the way she had come and waited for the person - creature - to disappear from view before stealing silently down the corridor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He met resistance as he passed through the gash in the air. A filmy barrier pushed against him and burned his skin. He fell forward and crashed to the floor, grasping at nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaping to his feet, he spun in a wild half-circle. “Arwen?” he gasped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was not there, nor did any familiar sight greet his eyes. The room had changed; shadow had fallen over it, and the stench of evil filled his nostrils. He choked and covered his mouth. “Arwen!” he called again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A throbbing beat answered him. It sounded as if it came from all sides and reverberated through the floor. To his increasing horror, he recognized orc drums. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned again, and the view from the picture window shocked him. Where the jagged ruins of Mordor had receded in the distance beyond a peaceful and green valley, the dark lands now spat great crests of fire, and a blanket of towering smoke covered the sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mordor had returned in a blink of an eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arwen! Eldarion!” cried the king, calling for his wife and infant son. Panic crashed through him, its sheer force causing him to stumble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He received no answer, but the drumbeat grew forcefully, and a curdling shriek pierced the air.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice had been heard and recognized, but not by his loved ones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raced to the window, all reason scattering as he took in the sight outside. His hands gripped the edges, and he did not notice when shards of glass sliced them. Foul sulfur drifted on the breeze. Below the tumultuous shadow of Mordor, all the landscape had been altered. Plumes of smoke belched from great rifts in the black cliffs in which flowed bright yellow rivers of flame. Green farmland and forest had been replaced by brown and twisted blight. Towns stood burning and empty. Most disturbing of all, orc encampments littered the plain, and their forces marched hither and to at will and in terrifying numbers. It was as if all the victories of the war had been reversed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Treachery!” he moaned, and the word was snatched by the wind and thrown cruelly back into his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, the piercing shriek sounded, and he recalled the bone-rattling fear of confronting a Ringwraith. A Nazgûl was in the palace, and it hungered for his blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes screamed and curled against the wall, the spear slipping from her numb grasp as she covered her ears. The ghastly screech seemed to enter her veins and freeze her very blood. Her heartbeat pulsed wildly in her temples. She had never felt so terrified. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On and on it went, unending, filling the whole world and reducing her vision to black sparks.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is evil this is evil thisisevilevilevilevilevilevilevil</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she shouted, and was stunned at the word echoing in sudden silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She panted and uncurled, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Whatever that was, wherever it came from, she needed to be very far away from it. Very, very far away. Hand wavering, she reached for the spear where it had fallen. And froze again when she realized that the pulsing beat she heard was not her heart after all, but an outside drumbeat, an ominous tattoo that throbbed in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scrabbled forward for the spear and gained her feet, then darted as fast as her unsteady limbs would allow down the corridor. She ran pell-mell around the corner, heedless of caution, only hoping to find a window or a doorway that would lead outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her wish was answered - a window with broken glass littering the sill offered a view of the world without. She stood rooted to the spot and ogled at the hellscape, mouth agape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wind groaned in her ears, carrying with it a single whispered word: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Treachery</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terror again curdled in her blood as the shriek came again, wailing and reverberating throughout the palace. She cowered as before, slashing out at phantoms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t last as long this time, and a human voice floated down the long hall, crying out in distress. Someone else was here, and they were in trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An orc burst into the room behind Aragorn. Their eyes met, each surprised into momentary stillness at seeing the other. Then, the orc surged forward, its mouth opening grotesquely in anticipation of man-flesh. Aragorn leapt back with a shout. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The creature landed astride him and bore him to the ground, and they grappled fiercely. Aragorn kicked upwards and heaved the orc off of his chest, and as fast as he regained his footing he drew a dagger from his belt and thrust it into the miserable beast’s throat, ending its life with one stroke. Black blood splattered out and splashed against his tunic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another one crashed through the door, and he whirled to face it. Behind it a new figure plunged in, this one upright and dressed like a man. The stranger planted a kick in its back and sent the orc sprawling to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turned over and faced its attacker, and in that instant, Aragorn saw the newcomer’s face twist with such a powerful revulsion that he himself felt his stomach turn in sympathy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes had never seen such a being in her life. An orc was a piteous figure in the lore of her people, an elf that had been tortured and mutilated beyond sanity. This thing on the ground bore no resemblance to those sorrowful souls. It was a perversion, a mockery of life. The sight of it filled her with a loathing too deep for words, and without a second thought she drove the spear through its heart.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Peasant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of heavy breathing filled the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to think, Tes stared at the dead orc.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn assessed her, taking note of the strange garb and grubby, youthful face, and as realization dawned, he growled in a low voice, “The peasant!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaping forward, he grasped the collar of her coat and lifted her in the air, then took two long paces and slammed her against the wall. “Undo what you have done!” he ordered harshly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face was barely three inches from his, and his spittle flecked her cheeks. She flinched away from his mad glare. “Let me go,” she ground out, grasping his wrist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head knocked painfully against the stone, and she yelped. Dropping her to the ground, Aragorn moved off and yanked the pike from the orc’s body. He raised it and threatened her, arresting her forward movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panting, Tes held up both hands in surrender. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have done nothing.” She kept her voice as calm as she could. “Put down the spear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have unmade the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not responsible for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then explain -” without lowering the lance, he reached down and snatched up the relic from the ground, “ - how it is that you came bearing this into my palace.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hesitated, which he mistook for culpability. He brandished the weapon. “Speak!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Tes yelled. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t understand any of this! You think I’m enjoying this living nightmare? Why are you blaming me for something I didn’t do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sincerity rang in the outburst, and Aragorn’s certainty slipped. The tip of the spear lowered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes breathed easier, but then the man across from her stiffened, and she lifted her palms again. “Come on,” she groaned, but he held up a hand for silence. He was looking past her through the open doorway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes held her breath. Rattling and shuffling reached their ears, and a terrible odor wafted through the door in advance of a scouting party of goblins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of them cleared the door and met the pike thrown in its face. It fell back with a horrible squawk and died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes jumped out of the way of the throw and somersaulted to stand beside the man. Stooping into a ready stance, she faced the horde shoving to get at them. Aragorn bent and scooped up a sword from the dead orc’s viselike grip - an implement that was little more than a rectangle with a sharp pointed triangle on the end. He swung it in a wide arc, catching several at once and driving them back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes stumbled over the other inert creature behind them, and catching sight of the hilt of the dagger, mashed her foot on its face and ripped it out. It made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>squelching</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound that she desperately disliked, and she swallowed against rising bile. Whipping around, she grabbed the shoulder of one of the creatures that had cleared Aragorn’s swipe and was trying to climb him. She threw it to the floor and deftly severed its windpipe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both humans fought back against the tide of goblins, Tes sliding into a state of unawareness that mirrored an out of body experience. There was no time to think, just act. She didn’t realize how often Aragorn covered her and blocked death-dealing strokes that were meant for her. The goblins had singled her out as the less experienced fighter and were attempting to pick her off. They swarmed the room in great numbers and pressed both back towards the window - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>- and abruptly fell back as the vile wail of the Nazgûl again resounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes collapsed and Aragorn caught her and bore her to one knee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she gasped breathlessly, “is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a Ringwraith,” Aragorn answered through gritted teeth. “I never thought to hear that cry again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve heard it before and survived?” gulped Tes, but he was already moving. He had turned to the window and was evaluating their chances of escaping through it. They didn’t seem very high, but through the doorway in the waiting arms of the goblins was not an option either. Outside there would be a long climb downward, during which they would be exposed on the white walls of the city to any creature that wished to pick them off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A third option occurred to him, and he gripped the folds of her jacket and dragged her to her feet. “Come on!” he shouted, pushing her in front of him. As danger again pressed forward from without, he bustled her through a side door into a room that was supposed to belong to one of the servants. He slammed the door shut and ran to the opposite wall, pushing up against one of the stones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a click and a grinding sound, and then a section of floor separated and revealed a darkened hatch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, nice,” Tes approved. “Secret passages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We may not be able to get out,” Aragorn warned, pausing on the lip of the entrance. “I do not know every turn, and the orcs may already have gained access to the tunnels.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s better than staying up here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded agreement and dropped in just as the wooden door began to rattle in its hinges from the battering it was receiving outside. Tes followed quickly, landing much more awkwardly, her fall partly broken by his catch. He kicked another stone at the base of the tunnel and the hatchway rumbled closed again, plunging them both into unbroken blackness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart hammering in her throat, Tes strained her ears for sounds of pursuit. The stone hatch above creaked with the weight of many feet, but it did not open. Even the cries of the Ringwraith sounded muted and frustrated. They still inspired dread, but at a distance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few strained minutes, her companion whispered, “I think we are safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes blew out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Next to her, she heard the man do the same. For a few more moments they just waited there, feeling the adrenaline leave their bodies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me,” the man said at last, “how a peasant woman fights like a trained soldier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unbidden, Tes’s face split into a wide grin. “Kickboxing,” she answered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorted, and she unleashed a relieved snicker. As the tension released, they both doubled over with soft giggles. Tes found that the laughter unlocked a flood of other emotions, and before long she was wiping away tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man waited until she had recovered somewhat, then asked quietly, “Your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tenlyssa. Call me Tes. Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused for an overlong amount of time, and her concern rose a notch, but then he simply answered, “Aragorn. I have gone by the name Strider in the past.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strider.” She shook her head. “I think that you just saved my life, and for that I am grateful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a long way to go before that is officially true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In that case, better I thank you now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She heard fabric rustle as he straightened, and started a little at his touch. “Come. We must try to find another way out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right behind you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took hold of the back of his shirt and followed carefully in his wake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the way,” she said as they descended into the passages’ depths, “I’m not actually a peasant…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through narrow twists and turns he led her lower and lower down the warren of secret tunnels that lined the inner reaches of the city of Minas Tirith. No one had had cause to use the tunnels in several decades, and they had fallen into disrepair. Aragorn himself had barely explored them during his first few years as king, having other responsibilities to occupy his time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a result, he knew little more than a sketch of their layout, and designed as they were to befuddle outsiders, he found himself lost and traveling in circles more than once. Several times, too, he stubbed his toe on a stone that had fallen out of place, which did nothing to improve his mood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman clinging to the back of his shirt said very little after the first time this happened; he had answered her whispered, “Are you alright?” with a curt affirmative, and she had deemed that he felt little like talking. She moved with him, careful not to jostle him too much but unwilling to let go lest she lose him in the dark. If Aragorn barely knew the way, she had no conception, and there was the very real danger that if left alone she would die of thirst or starvation before finding her way out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they wandered, knowledge he would rather not face came to him unsolicited, and he fought with himself. Despair would not save them. He redoubled his focus on their predicament and took them in a direction that he felt might lead to an exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, they fetched up against a cave-in that Aragorn was certain had not been there when he had been down this way before. Stymied, he took them back up the passage to a fork, and they halted. He closed his eyes and tried to feel where they might be in relation to the earth, but his internal compass had been thrown off by the continual winding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He huffed an irritated sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes patted his shoulder and let go of the shirt. Even without the physical contact, he could feel her presence near him, and he listened to the soft inhale and exhale of her breathing as she steadied her own nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>swish</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she bent into a crouch, followed by the brushing of her fingertips on the stone floor. “These tunnels branch off in two basic directions,” she murmured, thinking out loud. “One goes inward to the right, and the other outward and to the left. We are facing southwest and this passage goes in the wrong direction. We need to bear left at the next opportunity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rose. “I think I might know the way. Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached out for him in the dark and made contact with his arm. Gently, she directed him to hold onto her pack, and she took the lead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she guided them through tunnels she had never seen, Aragorn reevaluated his assessment of her tracking skills. She was evidently very gifted indeed if the patterns of these passageways opened themselves to her like a child’s reader. Clearly, she was not what she seemed, and his suspicion of her grew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At last, they reached an entryway that felt different from the others. He called for them to stop and moved his hands along the base of the wall until they bumped into the trigger that would open the door and release them outside. He lay his arm across her and pressed her against the wall, shushing her as a precaution. She obeyed readily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laid flat against the hard surface next to her and kicked the trigger with his foot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a crunch and a rumble, the wall opened. Dust cascaded down, filling the narrow entrance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They held their breath and waited. There was no sound; the opening of the stone seemed to have gone undetected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had no way of knowing if they would encounter orcs, but it was Aragorn’s certain guess that if a Ringwraith had taken up residency in the king’s palace, then the city would be full of the vile creatures. They would need to pass undetected from the city, and for that they would need disguises.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shielding his eyes, he led the way out of the secret passageways into the lower city. Though the sky outside was dim with smoke and ash, what little light there was smarted after the hours of pitch darkness. Tes followed quietly and unconsciously struck up a watch while he looked for the correct stone to push to close the doorway and conceal the entrance. At last, he found it and sealed the doorway shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They moved cautiously out into the city, Aragorn silently absorbing the shock of seeing the depth of destruction around them. What beauty there had been in the White City had been utterly ruined. On all sides, tattered rags flew in place of proud flags; malicious symbols were scrawled on the once-pristine battlements; and sections of the stone lay in blackened heaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing carefully at the woman at his side, he noted her glazed dismay at seeing the city thus devastated. They rounded a corner and pulled up short, gasping in horror at what they found there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Life had been extinguished in tortuous, agonizing excess. Young, old, and innocent faces now broken and disfigured gaped emptily at the two survivors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if it had been wrenched out of her soul, a wailing sob erupted from Tes. Hastily, Aragorn grabbed her and took her down an alleyway away from the horrors of the street. Her shoulders shook underneath his grip. She dropped to her knees and wretched, a fit caused by heartbreak rather than nausea. The cries tore out of her in ever-increasing violence. She howled, and the storm of her sorrow echoed ceaselessly up and down the ramparts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could not calm her, and so held her and kept her from harming herself in her anguish. Evil ears listen though they may, women’s weeping would only sound a sweet symphony to their horrific sensibilities, and her misery would serve an unexpected purpose and further mask their presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He buried his face in her coat, and he too wept. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long, long time later, her tears abated in ever-lessening waves of severity, and she leaned heavily against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ducked down and observed her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back at him dully from puffy, reddened eyes. Whatever spark had been in there was gone, and Aragorn feared it would not return. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We must go,” he urged softly. He took her hands in his own and tried to rub some warmth into their cold grasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing and sniffling, she nodded slowly and took his offer of support to rise. They went down the alley in a different direction from the street and continued to pass through the city, acid dread tearing at their stomachs at what else they might find.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Ghost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aragorn stepped over a heap of broken wood and entered an abandoned home near the edge of the city. “Here,” he gave his hand to Tes and helped her over the splintered barrier. The structure of the house was still relatively sound, its recessed location having kept it safe from most of the looting by the hordes. Rooting around in an oak trunk, he found two worn brown cloaks. He passed one over to his companion. “Put this on and cover your face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She obeyed silently and drew the hood far over her head until it was impossible to see her expression. Aragorn did the same, recalling his days as a ranger when such disguises were commonplace. The pack on Tes’s back made her look hunched over, like one with a crooked back, and he decided that this was to their advantage. Looking weaker than they were would throw an enemy off-balance. He took a staff that lay against the wall and leaned against it, affecting a slight limp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We must be stealthy,” he advised, and they set off for a side gate that would take them out of the city of kings. Night was falling, which pleased him as it would further conceal their movements. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another factor was working to their benefit as well: the hordes of orcs were less organized on the outside and were more on the lookout for intruders coming in rather than survivors going out. They stole unnoticed through the gate and carefully descended a rough dirt path down the mountain. They put the city between them and the encampments of the enemy and set out north over the plains. Not trusting to sleep, they pushed on through the night, and Tes again surprised him by her sturdiness. She kept up with him easily and helped chart a course through the obscure landscape. The only light guiding their way was the orange glow of the dark lands, and this they put mostly behind them when they crested a ridge and dropped to the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn called a halt, and they rested on the lee side. Tes sat and pulled her knees in close, laying her chin on top of them and staring out into the night. Aragorn kept watch, keeping his eyes and ears open for any signs of unwelcome approach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” Tes asked quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answered, thinking that it would be quite some time before they were able to find anything edible out here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he watched in surprise, she felt around inside her cloak and came out holding two strips of dried meat and some bread squares. “Take some,” she said, proffering half of her provisions to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled and accepted gratefully. She tore into the jerky with relish, and after a moment, he did the same. It had a delicious smoky flavor, and he found himself savoring it. He bit into the bread and blinked in astonishment. “This is lembas bread!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Old family recipe,” she said around a bite of her own. “I’ve gotten pretty good at making it. We always called it waybread, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head in wonder at her. “I have only known true lembas bread to be made by the elves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elves?” Tes shot him a puzzled grin. “There’s no such thing as elves, Strider.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you from? Elves have inhabited Middle Earth far longer than man. It is passing strange that you do not think they are real.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s weird that you do,” she retorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once we’re past these plains,” Tes said, changing the subject, “we can cut into the mountains. I might be able to make it back to some ruins where I set up camp. We’ll be a lot safer than out here in the open.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What ruins?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, some old fortress or something. I never found out its history.” She frowned as a thought struck her. “There is someone out there who might know, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rising to his feet, Aragorn said, “I do not think we will need to go as far as the mountains. There is a familiar scent on the wind.” His heart stirred with a faint, illicit hope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider said that had gotten just the faintest whiff of a cooking fire, but it invigorated him nonetheless because it smelled like it came from a human encampment, not orc. He set out swiftly in its direction, Tes trailing him in confusion. She did not smell anything out of the ordinary, just mud and heather. Leaving the city had been a tremendous olfactory relief, but her nose was still tingling and any cooking smells were lost on her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider practically ran across the flatlands, and she wondered where his energy came from. He had set up a punishing pace in their hasty push from the city. Surely, he slept sometimes? She leapt after him as best as she could, her breath coming in short bursts. It was almost a blessing when he jerked to a stop and shoved her to the ground with the sharply hissed command, “Down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes toppled gladly over but then froze when the shrill sound of an arrow zipped overhead. Another one punched the soft dirt a few inches from her hand, which she snatched back and hid inside the cloak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold!” called Strider to their invisible attacker. “We are human, not orc!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The arrows stopped; Tes tipped her forehead to the earth and let out a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gruff voice came out from the night, “Password?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We do not know any password,” Strider answered readily in reasoning tones. “We come seeking refuge from the city of Minas Tirith. Mischief is not our intent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gentle timbre of his voice had a soothing effect on her nerves; surely it would convince whoever was out there to let them approach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There were none left alive in Minas Tirith,” the voice said, but it sounded less sure of itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We came there by accident,” Strider explained. “A trick of magic did us both an evil turn, and it is only by good fortune that we escaped intact. See, we are harmless.” And he stood, pulling back his hood to reveal his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes rose to her feet more slowly, following suit and hoping that the guy out there was the ask-questions-first type. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come closer; I can’t see ye in the dark,” the watchman ordered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider obligingly stepped forward into the light cast by a nearby fire so that his features were visible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The watchman gasped and dropped his bow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know thy face! Thou art a ghost!” he cried in a much higher voice. He turned away and, silhouetted by the fire, hid his face. “Speak not to me, dread spektor! Leave me in peace, I beg ye!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jacoby?” Strider said. “Is that you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man cringed and, much to Tes’s astonishment, actually whimpered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jacoby, I am no ghost. I am a living man like you.” Strider quickly advanced on him and laid a hand on his arm. “Feel that? I draw breath, I am warm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was too much for the watchman Jacoby, and he slumped to the ground, sobbing into Strider’s cloak. “I saw thee fall!” he cried. “In the fighting at the Black Gate thou wert overtaken by yon dread wraith riders! I saw thee fall!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nay,” Strider countered, taking Jacoby’s face in his hands. His eyes gleamed with distress. “Nay, Jacoby, we won that battle. Frodo destroyed the Ring -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But he didn’t, sire!” protested the weeping soldier. “The hobbit perished in the fires of Mount Doom, and the battle was lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pain clouded Strider’s face, and he declared, “Then the magic that brought us here was evil indeed. In my reckoning, we won a great victory that day, and the Dark Lord was smote into dust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is not so,” Jacoby answered. “We suffered a terrible defeat at the hands of the dread lord’s armies and barely escaped with our lives. Mithrandir’s eagles bore a small contingent of us to safety; the rest could not be saved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What of the fellowship?” Strider asked urgently, kneeling beside the watchman and shaking his shoulders. “What of Mithrandir and the elf? The dwarf, the two hobbits? Did they survive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aye,” Jacoby nodded, and Strider’s head dropped in relief. “But they went off, m’lord, and we know not where they may be found.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They live. All is not lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nay, sire. Not with thee here.” Jacoby looked up at Strider’s face, and his countenance lighted with incredible joy. “I don’t know how nor what in what manner thou wert saved, but now there is hope again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jacoby threw his arms around Strider who embraced him tightly and then kissed his forehead. “Faithful Jacoby,” Strider said, smiling in his own turn. “Who else is in this camp? How have you lasted against the orcs? What of Faramir and Éowyn ?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All thy questions shall be answered, sire,” Jacoby said. “Lord Faramir is here, as well as the Lady Éowyn. They are quartered in the center of our little camp. Lord Faramir will not know what to do with ‘imself when ‘ee sees thee!” The watchman chortled, barely able to contain his glee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then arise and take me to them at once,” Strider said, pulling Jacoby to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small squeak on the right recalled him to the presence of his new companion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes had moved in to watch the entire exchange up close. She couldn’t decide if their dialogue sounded like terrible script writing, or if it was the most moving thing she had ever witnessed. She stared wordlessly at Strider and Jacoby, and if her eyebrows rose any higher, they would have disappeared inside her hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jacoby blinked curiously at her. “M’lord, who is thy hunchbacked compatriot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider paused for a moment, and she could see him considering how to frame his response. “This is Tenlyssa, a peasant shieldmaiden,” he said at last. “She will accompany us to Lord Faramir’s tent. Will you not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This last was directed at Tes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shut her mouth, which was drying out. “Oh, yeah, sure,” she answered vaguely while her mind ran in flustered circles. “Whatever you want. Let’s go meet this farmer, or whatever he is. I doubt anything could surprise me at this point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was wrong, which she immediately observed upon seeing Faramir’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Riddles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Despite it being the second watch of the night, Faramir was not asleep. He sat in a chair at the table in the center of the council tent, poring endlessly over maps and writing detailed notes in the margins. He wore a dirty, torn tunic over tired-looking chain mail, and when the watchman put his head into the tent, he noted the dark circles under the steward’s eyes as he looked up to acknowledge him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jacoby, I would rather not be disturbed,” Faramir said in a cracked voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ye’ll like this disturbance, m’lord,” said Jacoby, gesturing to someone outside to wait. He stepped all the way in, hardly knowing how to deliver his news. He opted to speak plainly. “Ye have a visitor. M’lord Aragorn is alive and ‘ee has returned. Just like the White Wizard ‘ee has.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir shook his head in disbelief. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jacoby flung the tent flap all the way back and beckoned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two hooded figures in brown cloaks swept into the tent. Faramir rose quickly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The taller of the two held out a hand. “Stay!” He reached up and flung back his hood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir gasped as he beheld a face he had only lately seen in dreams. He staggered and grasped the edge of the table for support, his face going white. “It… it cannot be!” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Isildur’s heir held him in a compassionate gaze. The steward looked long and hard at the man in front of him, blinking several times as if to ward off tears. For a moment, Faramir thought he might be going to the halls of his fathers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the other cloaked figure tossed off its hood and stepped forward. He got a brief impression of thick red curls and flashing green eyes, and then the person stood in front of him pointing an accusing finger and shouting angrily, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You were in the city when everything fell apart!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir cringed and pulled away, his face filling with shame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn took the woman by the shoulders and pulled her back. “Easy, Tes,” he said softly. “Give him a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nonplussed, she fell silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aragorn,” Faramir rasped, finding his voice at last. “How? Is this some deceit of Sauron’s sent to sap what little strength we have left?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peace, Faramir,” Aragorn said gently. “I understand this little more than you, but it is not a trick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then greater is my shame, for needless was our retreat from Minas Tirith.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nay, steward. You saved all who you could. As long as these camps stand, Gondor has not fallen. You have seen to that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me. Something is badly amiss. This morning when I awoke, Sauron was defeated and Mordor was gone. I don’t understand how, but it seems as though all the world has been overthrown in an instant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Defeated? It sounds too incredible to be true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet that is how things stood only this morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This,” Faramir said, gesturing bitterly, “is not a victorious army. Our own city sits but a few leagues away occupied by the enemy, and we are pressed on all sides by orcs. It is only a matter of time before we are overrun. It has been the same since this morning, and many before that.” He thought for a moment, then turned cautiously hopeful eyes towards Aragorn. “Yet this morning you were not alive, and here you stand before me, by some miracle of Ilúvatar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn took a deep breath and asked the question he had been dreading the answer to this whole long day. “Sauron has the Ring, then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir gave him an odd look. “It is said that he does, but I do not believe it. He would long have gained dominion over Middle Earth if that were so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then Frodo…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it is not with the hobbit, either. He is lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Sam?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mutely, Faramir shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sorrow blended with confusion, and he asked, “Where has it gone, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know.” Faramir pressed forward intently. “The only one who could have guessed its location withdrew a long time ago. But Aragorn, your return to us cannot be accidental. The two riddles must be linked somehow.” He gripped his friend’s arm.” Tell me everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jacoby obtained refreshments for their tired guests and then made as if to leave, but Faramir stopped him and invited him to join them at the table. Tes sank down on one stool with a grunt and a sigh, and almost immediately a sweeping weariness came over her. The men were too involved with their discussions to notice that her head drooped forward and eyes flickered closed of their own accord. Exhausted, she fell into a light sleep on the table with her head on her arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn and Faramir talked eagerly for over an hour in the low candlelight, their heads close together. Jacoby heeded carefully as they compared accounts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turned out that Aragorn’s version of the events of the War of the Ring was exactly the same as Faramir’s all the way up until the battle at the Black Gate. Here, their stories diverged, one telling of absolute victory and the other of disastrous defeat. Faramir told Aragorn of the king’s demise by a fatal stroke of a Nazgûl blade, and how upon witnessing this, the fighting spirit had left the armies of men and they were instantly overwhelmed. Mithrandir had called his eagles to him and bore himself, the remaining members of the Fellowship, and a few fortunate soldiers, including Jacoby, to safety beyond the reach of the Ringwraiths. Burdened though he was with grief, the wizard could sense that something had gone wrong for Sauron as well as for the armies of men, and so to buy time he flew straightaway to Minas Tirith and warned Faramir to evacuate the city. They had escaped to the mountains north and east of the city, where the women and children had established crude settlements. The forces of Gondor, diminished as they were, pushed back against their orc pursuers, and after three long years of campaigning, they had made enough gains to set up a semi-permanent fortress in the plains. Mithrandir and the fellowship had departed, borne by the eagles’ wings to an uncertain fate, and they had had no tidings of them since their leaving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn in his turn told Faramir and Jacoby of the Ring’s destruction, Sauron’s utter defeat, and the rending of the earth so that all the dark forces of Mordor were swallowed by the abyss. He then talked of the days of peace that followed, the joy of his coronation and wedding, and the prosperity that had begun to return to Gondor in the intervening years. The men listened misty-eyed as Aragorn described the beauty of the white tree in eternal blossom on the heights of Minas Tirith. At this image, Faramir had to look away and wipe aside unshed tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only name he did not recognize in the accounting was that of Arwen, and Aragorn leveled a sharp look at him before remembering that the steward had not met the elf maiden until the king’s coronation day. He dropped his gaze to the table again, facing a reality he had tried to hold off as long as possible. “We had a son, Eldarion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir squeezed his hand sympathetically. “I see we are not the only ones to have lost so much in so little time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The talk turned to the woman resting by them at the table and the relic she had brought into their world. Aragorn explained what little he knew of her abrupt arrival in the castle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is she, Aragorn? Why is she here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. But I do not believe she represents a threat. It strikes me more likely that she also has been caught up in events beyond her understanding. There is some strength in her, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn lifted the relic from an inner pocket and set it on the table. They looked at it for a while - it did not glare with the brilliance of before, but again it seemed to slip around and through light in an unusual way. Faramir carefully picked it up and felt its weight, turning it this way and that. He listened as Aragorn described in as much detail as he could how the relic had appeared when it was activated, and how in attempting to subdue it he had fallen through a wound in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The steward sat back and his brow furrowed with thought. Aragorn, recognizing the signs of Faramir’s mind hard at work, fell silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Faramir spoke. “Mithrandir told me once that the future is comprised of many pathways, some full of light and joy and others covered in shadow and despair, and all in between. There are one or two tales of one passing over from one pathway to another and witnessing a different outcome; these have always seemed more like fable than record, however. But it is certain that history hinges upon certain decisive moments, which if changed, have the potential to alter everything that follows. If the decisive moment was the Battle of Morannon, then your contact with this relic must have pulled you from a world in which that battle was a victory into a world in which it was a defeat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thus amending the course of all that followed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what of Tes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What of her indeed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching across the table, Faramir gently touched the sleeping woman’s arm. She roused and looked up at him blearily. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off,” she mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tes, how did you come into possession of this item?” He waved the relic before her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh, that.” She frowned as she gathered her scattered thoughts. “I was backpacking, and I saw something shiny on the ground, so I picked it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait a moment,” said Aragorn while Faramir scowled at the lack of detail. “This is not the first time you have used that word - ‘backpacking.’ What does it mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, hiking. Like, walking in the woods, but for a really long time. Days, or in my case, weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why were you traveling? Where were you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was just hiking. I wasn’t really going anywhere. I do that sometimes, go for long trips in the woods. I call them sabbaticals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything else you can tell us about your encounter with this?” Faramir again held up the relic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just that something knocked me out when I grabbed it. When I woke up, I was in the palace surrounded by guards. But you were there too, Faramir. You already asked me a lot of these questions, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not.” Faramir exchanged a glance with Aragorn. “I do not believe that it was I whom you encountered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um.” Tes only looked more confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Regardless,” Aragorn redirected quickly, “the decisive factor appears to be the Battle of Morannon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The what?” Tes burst out laughing. “That’s silly. The Battle of Morannon was millenia ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her laughter stilled when all three men suddenly fixed her with a pointed stare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Battle of Morannon was but three years ago,” said Faramir slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it wasn’t - what? Did you say three years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A glimmer of understanding crossed his face, and the steward leaned forward. “Tes, when was the Battle of Morannon, according to your reckoning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes suddenly looked uncomfortable, as though he were giving her a test she hadn’t studied for. “Well, don’t hold me to this. I’m no historian, but around two thousand seven hundred years. Give or take a century.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faramir sat back, spread his hands, and looked extraordinarily pleased with himself. “Therein lies part of the answer, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a theory?” Aragorn asked eagerly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Tes is from a distant future, and her encounter with the relic pulled her into your world and thus disrupted it, Aragorn. What else can it be?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Quagmire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tes agitatedly paced the floor. “Time travel? Time travel?” she repeated at the sitting men. “That’s the best you can do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Magic can do many wondrous things,” Aragorn offered reasonably. “Believe it or not, this is not the most incredible thing I have heard of. Although it ranks among the strangest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes came back to the table and leaned on her hands until she was just inches away from his face. “Strider. Magic is not real. Elves are not real. Those are just fairy tales and folklore. This whole theory of yours is ridiculous superstition!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elves are not real?” Faramir restated in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn listed in his direction and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “She keeps saying that. I am not sure where she gets her ideas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where I get my - where in all the gods’ names do you get yours??”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And orcs?” Aragorn’s words hit home, and he watched her grow very still. “Would you have said that orcs and goblins existed before today?” he pressed. “It may very well be that centuries from now there will be no more orcs or elves in Middle Earth, but that is not the case now. Do you not think it possible that these things that have happened are beyond your ken? And do you not wish to know why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes sat down again, while through her mind ran the legends and lore of her people, of mystical elves, powerful wizards, and abominable creatures that lurked in the fringes of nightmares. Yet today she had seen that nightmares were real - she had smelled their foul stench, spilled their blood, and felt the terror of their shrieking cries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She bowed and placed her head in her hands, overcome.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So miserable did she appear, that Jacoby scooted his chair next to hers and patted her shoulders awkwardly. “There, there, m’lady,” he comforted. “I only understood a word here and there, to be sure, but ye can be certain of Lord Faramir’s know-how. ‘Ee studied wi’ wizards, ‘ee did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glowered at him, but his manner, more so than his words, helped lift her spirits a small bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You both should rest,” Faramir counseled with a gentle smile. “You had a difficult escape from Minas Tirith today, and tomorrow will be a full day, I wager, followed by many more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He promised Aragorn a visit from Éowyn first thing the next morning, and they went their separate ways, Jacoby guiding the two travelers to their new sleeping quarters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their sleep was rudely interrupted at dawn by the blast of a horn and the clang of metal upon metal. They were under attack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn raced out and went immediately to a pile of swords in the center of a circle of tents. Hefting one, he joined the lines of men rushing to defend the perimeter. There, he espied Tes among the soldiers, darting in and out of the fracas with the orcs, felling with her sword as many as she blocked with a large round shield strapped to her left arm. Her face was set in an intense concentration and she fought bravely, but still was caught unprepared when a taller orc feinted at her knees and then struck her in the head with a club. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She landed on her back from the blow and lay there dazed while the creature moved in for the kill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn charged the orc and sliced it in twain, then reached for the fallen woman. He lifted her to her wobbly legs, then half-carried, half-pushed her away from the fighting. “Get back!” he shouted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand clutched at her head, and her fingers came away stained with red blood. She staggered but stayed upright. “No, I can fight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tes, go back to the center of camp and get your head seen to,” Aragorn ordered firmly. “There are enough here to drive back the orcs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reluctantly, she complied, stumbling a little as she walked away, while Aragorn returned to the fighting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the morning’s melee, Aragorn and Faramir agreed that Tes, while possessing some skill in combat, would need formal training in the handling of sword and shield if she was to continue throwing herself into battle. They arranged sessions with her later in the afternoon and sent her to rest while they conferred in private. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As promised, Éowyn, the fair-haired, valiant shieldmaiden of Rohan, came to see Aragorn soon after the sun rose. Faramir had told her of his return in the night in their shared pallet, but she had hardly dared to hope for it until she saw his face for herself. They held each other in a fond embrace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them spent the entire morning and early afternoon talking and making plans. Tes, after a suitable period of time, reappeared in the compound with a bandaged head and a sword in her hand, slicing roughly at the air with practice strokes. Jacoby and Aragorn took her aside to a training ring and taught her some basic blocking moves; after some unsteadiness while she got used to the balance of the sword, she proved to be a quick study. At the end of the day, she demonstrated some hand-to-hand combinations to her instructors that they had not seen before. Aragorn, trying them out for the first time, found himself dumped unceremoniously in the mud, and the sounds of their laughter rang through the camp and brought smiles to many faces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A week passed, seven days marked by orc raids and training. In the evenings, Tes absorbed as much history as she could from Faramir, Aragorn, and Éowyn, having the distinct feeling that she had entered a book in the middle with no grasp of its opening. It came out that the only piece of history she knew from the Third Age was the name of the Battle of Morannon, and she listened wide-eyed as they told her of the rings of power, the menace of the One Ring, the exploits of the Fellowship, the beauty and mystery of Lothlórien, the defense of Helm’s Deep, and the Army of the Dead of Dunharrow. She gasped at appropriate intervals as Aragorn narrated the terrible battle between the wizard Mithrandir and the Balrog (“Did he really say ‘You shall not pass’ like some kind of epic moratorium?”); and she cringed at the story of Sarumon’s demise. It was during Éowyn’s account of the Ride of the Rohirrim at the Siege of Gondor, however, that Aragorn observed Tes sit straight up and while a new fire blazed behind her eyes. Éowyn spoke with moving poetry of the bravery of her uncle King Thoéden’s final charge and shared her own part in the battle with more than a hint of triumph. Her defeat of the Witch King of Angmar had earned her the right to stand at Faramir’s side during all their long campaigns, and she clearly felt that the honor was well-deserved. That particular night, she and Tes stayed up almost until morning’s first light, sitting close and sharing dreams of valor with shining eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The following day, Faramir and Aragorn took Tes aside and explained the plans that they had been forming during the past week. They had agreed that as long as the forces of Gondor were locked in a stalemate with the orc armies of Mordor, Aragorn could not do much good staying there. He had decided to take the relic to the north in search of Mithrandir, and he wanted Tes to come with him for her own safety. “You and the relic are linked,” he explained. “We don’t know how, but Mithrandir would if we could only find him, and he may even be able to use it to send you home. Beyond that, it is imperative that we prevent you and the relic from falling into enemy hands, for as long as you are here, you are in danger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes did not have any reason to object; the prospect of a long journey on foot did not deter her, and she looked forward to seeing more of Middle Earth in this time period. “One more thing,” Aragorn advised. “While we travel, it is best if you continue to refer to me by the name Strider.” He was concerned that the name Aragorn may attract unnecessary danger, and they needed to move in secret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, carrying only what provisions and weapons they could without being slowed down, Strider and Tes set off for the north. After two days, they passed through the Druadan Forest into the realm of Anorien. They made excellent time, hunting and foraging as they went, and Strider drew on his skills as a ranger to conceal their tracks so they did not draw unwanted attention. He wanted them to make for the Gap of Rohan, thinking they might find welcome and news in the halls of Edoras, the capital city of Rohan. Tes, as it turned out, knew the region they traversed fairly well, having spent some time in that country on one of her outdoor excursions. She felt confident after studying the maps that she knew where Edoras lay, although in her time it had long since fallen into ruin.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the third night, they made camp at the north edge of the forest in sight of the River Anduin. While Strider took first watch, Tes leaned back against a tree and fell into a light sleep. After about an hour, she snorted softly, waking herself. Strider threw her a humorous glance. “You snore like a dwarf,” he teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since I don’t know what dwarf snoring sounds like, that insult is useless,” she shot back. She put her head back again, but then lifted it at the muffled sound of rustling close by. “Strider,” she whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put his hand up. “I hear it.” He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and tensed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes rolled into a crouch and half-drew her sword from its scabbard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tumultuous squeal filled the air, and within seconds the clearing was teeming with orcs, pouncing from the brush and waving crude clubs and sharp sticks. Strider and Tes stood back to back and vigorously fought them off. They seemed less like an organized contingent than a roaming war party, but the sheer volume of them pressed the two humans back almost up to the banks of the river. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on!” Strider shouted, and he turned on his heel and ran into the water. “There is a ford near here!” Tes followed closely and they moved out to the center of the river on shallow sandbars while the orcs piled up on the bank. An eerie howling reached their ears, and Strider directed Tes to duck low and make herself less of a target. He hoped the darkness of the night would give them enough cover to make it to the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few arrows whistled through the air, but they flew high and wide, and he felt more sure that the ruse was working. The orcs would not enter the water, that he was certain. He pushed Tes in front of him and directed her to exit the river and move eastward along the shoreline. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She splashed out of the river and took off running; the sound of the water drew orc fire, but Strider positioned himself on the upper bank in some tall grass and let fly arrow after arrow. With growing satisfaction, he watched as black shapes toppled forward on the opposite shore until the firing ceased and the orcs withdrew. He knew it would not be long before they assembled some kind of boat to cross, and he wanted to be long gone before they got the chance. He dashed after Tes, hoping she had already made it far away before the enemy regrouped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After leaving the grass, his steps were slowed by thick mud, but he pressed onward. “Tes?” he called in a low voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no answer, and he wondered how far she could have gotten. “Tes?” he called more urgently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something caught at his foot, and he fell forward into a sucking mire. His heart in his throat, he realized that in the dark they had stumbled too far into the fens of Nindalf. “Tes!” he shouted, caution gone. Orcs would not follow them at all, he realized. They would be too afraid of getting ensnared in the marshes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to rise, but his knees would not obey. With each movement, he sank a little deeper in a stinking, burbling sludge. He was completely immobilized, and without rescue, would soon be claimed by the quagmires. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Unexpected help</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Failure struck him to his core. “Tes!” he shouted yet again, dreading the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small voice came out of the darkness. “I’m here. I’m okay, but I’m stuck.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shut his eyes and winced. “As am I,” he said. “Can you get out? Is there anything to grab onto to pull yourself out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard an odd </span>
  <em>
    <span>squish</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then Tes said, “No. There’s nothing here. What about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>squish </span>
  </em>
  <span>came again. “What is that?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes's voice was unsteady. “I’m sinking. I can’t stop it. If I move, it just gets worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a soft bubbling sound, Strider felt his waist slip lower into the muck. He groaned. “Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strider…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Tes. Let me think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An idea struck him, and he asked, “Can you reach your sword?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was more squelching, followed by a strained “Yeep!” from Tes. “No,” she said a moment later. “It already went in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn awkwardly pulled his own sword from its scabbard, sacrificing a few more inches for the movement. He reversed it and dipped it into the mud, then pulled it in an attempt to dig a small trench that he could climb out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With each sucking stroke, more of the swamp’s watery mud rushed to fill the gap, and he got nowhere. Then, with a soft cry, he lost his hold on the sword as it was torn from his hand. It disappeared into the murk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any luck?” Tes asked quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Aragorn responded, and his heart sank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t answer. After a short while, Aragorn asked softly, “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was asking about more than just her physical well-being, which she seemed to understand. A short, bitter laugh escaped her, and she answered. “No.” Then, with a soft sigh, “Yes. Hard to say. You’ve still got the relic, right? Maybe it will activate and send you somewhere safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled lightly. “Given its history, it is more likely to send us both right to the center of Mordor.” Even so, it had not occurred to him that the relic might afford a way out. He half-recalled an old saying of Gandalf’s from long ago, something about help coming from unexpected sources. There had been many times in Aragorn’s own journeying when unlooked-for assistance had turned the tide against impossible odds; one could not rely solely on this as a rule, however. Even so, he thought an unspoken prayer to the Valar asking for some sign of the wizard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least they had left the fumes of Mordor behind; above their heads, the stars wheeled in far-off beauty. An ancient aerlinn came to his mind, and gazing upwards, he whispered the opening words: “A Elbereth Gilthoniel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In response, a remarkable sound filled the night air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes began to sing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his even greater surprise, she was singing the very same aerlinn in perfect Elvish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice lifted in a haunting, lilting melody that soared above the marshes, passing over the stink and mist. Aragorn listened, spell-bound, while his lips moved in unconscious recitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice choked off mid-phrase, and he realized with dismay that she had sunk below the surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tes!” he cried out; he did not notice until too late the murk closing above his own head also. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noiselessly, they were dragged ever downward into the bottomless fen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The swamp waters parted in front of them, giving way as a much larger object advanced. The fen could not sink this thing - it strode along as if the bog were a shallow pool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching downwards, two long, thick tendrils poked into the mud, shoving it aside. Other offshoots stacked up in wall-like formation to hold the silt at bay while wooden vines snaked around the waists of the two senseless humans. The being hoisted them upwards until with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were freed. Then, he raised them to eye level and examined them, one after the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmmmmmmm,” intoned the being in a rolling, drawn-out rumble. They were both too covered in black goo to be recognizable, yet they did not strike him as orc-like. Very gently, he used a twig-like growth to clear a space on the forehead of one of the swamplings. It uncovered smooth, soft skin underneath - very unlike the leathery hides of goblins. He had never heard of a goblin singing, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He considered them for a long moment, then decided not to drop them back in the fen. Instead, he draped each of them within the curled branches growing outward from his head. Then, he turned eastward and plodded back across the river. His footsteps were slow and measured, yet so great were the lengths of his strides that each covered a great distance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not far away, a battle raged. He paced towards it, bearing his two swamplings into the thick of war. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes was startled awake by rocking and swaying. Her hands rested against rough bark, and she grabbed on in a momentary disoriented panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opening her eyes carefully, she found that she had to blink away thick, drying mud. She tried to take stock of her surroundings. She was surrounded by branches, and from the motion of the stars, whatever she was riding on was traveling quite fast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She heard her name spoken aloud and twisted downwards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider’s concerned eyes looked at her through a wall of leaves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank the gods,” she breathed, reaching down to take his hand. “I thought we were both drowned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider’s expression changed to one of relief, and he squeezed her palm. Then, he looked up and sideways. She followed his gaze and found herself looking straight into a huge, tawny gold eye. It was rolled to one side in observance of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave a shout and scooted away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be afraid,” Strider said, his voice tinged with awe. “We are riding upon an Ent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ent…” she murmured wonderingly, and her fear dropped away as she peered into the ageless depths of the tree herder’s eye. Out of all the strange beings that had filled the tales she had been told, the Ents had captured her imagination the most. Seeing one - riding on one - far exceeded even her wildest dreams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked at her, and she clapped her hands in delight, then quickly grabbed a hold of the branches again to stabilize herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The being did not speak in the Common tongue, but instead rumbled deeply in his own language, a series of groans and creaks that made little sense to human ears. He spoke for several minutes, and it occurred to Tes that he might be in the process of saying nothing more complicated than, “Hi, there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was confirmed by Strider, who bowed when the Ent finally stopped speaking and said back, “Hello to you as well. Thank you for your timely rescue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You speak tree?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only a little,” he confessed. “Don’t tell him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did he know to come looking for us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, but I suspect your singing had something to do with it. Your voice has a heavenly quality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes blushed, but there was no more time for talking, for they both heard at the same time the by-now familiar sounds of warfare. They turned in their seats and looked out in front of the Ent, trying to discern where the fighting was coming from. Strider climbed the branches until his head cleared the very top, where he squinted to peer ahead of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An orange glow appeared on the distant horizon, and the Ent rumbled again. This time the voice was much deeper and harsher, and though at first it was difficult to gauge for certain, Tes got the sense that he picked up the pace. His feet left the surface of the earth in greater lengths each time until he fairly bounded across the landscape. Tes’s teeth rattled in her head with each landing, and she hung on for dear life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They approached the glow rapidly, which resolved into the image of burning trees, and Tes and Strider understood the Ent’s fury. He pounded forward and crashed like a behemoth into a line of orcs, who scattered underfoot. The line broke into disarray, yet other groupings surged forward, carrying torches and flinging rocks. Within moments, flaming arrows filled the air. Tes got the feeling that she and Strider had ridden their Ent right into the middle of an all-out assault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes choked on the smoke from the fires, and she flinched away when an arrow struck the bark next to her cheek. The Ent roared now, his voice reverberating across the sky. He struck out with his long arms and kicked with his legs until a great swath had been cut into the orc forces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strider, who was still looking out into the night, touched her arm and pointed. To her horror, she saw a sea of torches stretching out even to the horizon, borne by teeming masses of goblins. Their terrible eyes gleamed dangerously in the firelight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From his perch, Strider strung a couple arrows and took out some of the enemy archers, and Tes followed suit with her crossbow. However, the Ent did not stop to let them savor their work; he stormed headlong into the woods, heedless of the fires. Tes had to bat out several small conflagrations that started on his bark, and she tried to shout for him to be careful, but her voice disappeared inside a coughing fit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Ent slammed through the orcs until they had made it about one hundred feet into the woods, and then he climbed up the side of a cliff as though it were a small stairway. From the top, he bellowed a challenge at the approaching orcs below. They looked tiny, like insects, and they waved their miniscule fists at the enraged tree herder. The Ent reached down and sank his mighty hands directly into the stone, then pulled and pulled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boulders fell away, soil shook loose, and a massive rock slide began. The Ent walked on, punching the earth as he went, increasing the strength of the slide with well-placed strokes. It was all Strider and Tes could do to hold on. The Ent was not earth-moving haphazardly; he was literally carving out a ravine with his bare hands. Deeper and deeper he dug, increasing the depth and steepness of the chasm, and orcs fell into the ground in droves. The fissures in the earth reminded Tes of Strider’s accounting of the fall of Mordor, and she watched in utter horrified fascination. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Ent climbed out of the ravine he had created and moved further on into the forest. He paused at the face of a much larger cliff and pointed upwards with his long, wooden arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took them a moment, but they realized that he wanted them to climb the arm up to the top of the cliff. Strider and Tes ascended swiftly, and when their feet touched bare earth, they turned to look back at the tree herder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He howled fiercely at them, and his tawny eyes flashed with immense anger. Then, he dug into the rocky face in front of him and tore away huge chunks of earth, throwing them aside like toys. As he dug, the humans felt the ground shift under their feet, and they backed away quickly. A stream sprang forth as he breached the barrier of groundwater. It swelled into a tumultuous river that erupted back at the orc forces and swept them away. The Ent weathered the blast with aplomb and gestured at the humans to go onward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes heard the clash of swords in the direction the Ent indicated, and as one, she and Strider whirled and raced into the fray.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Which direction?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Amidst the caterwaul of the orcs, Aragorn heard tiny, familiar cries, and all sanity fled his mind. Shouting, he redoubled his sprint, leaping into the lines of the enemy, daggers flashing in both hands as he dealt death in rapid, powerful strokes. Goblins scattered before him like surf breaking on craggy rocks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes followed close on his heels, a bit startled by the battle fury that had consumed him, but prepared nonetheless to back him up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beneath their feet, thick root systems thrust forward through the earth, shoving aside rock and soil. The mighty roots burst upwards from the ground, sailing above their heads and catching scores of orcs in mid-leap, then pounding them ferociously back to the ground. The forest in its hatred of the invaders threw itself into an upheaval. Branches split and wood crashed into itself with loud, splintering thunder. Chaos reigned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through it all, Aragorn caught glimpses of two small, curly-haired beings dancing in and out of range of the orc swords, stabbing desperately at their feet and legs. They were being engulfed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ducked down, covering his head and transforming himself into a human projectile. He tackled the nearest orc, bringing it down to the ground with a muffled </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then leapt up and covered the two little men. He didn’t notice that Tes lost her footing on the rolling earth and stumbled away from them, falling from view into the roiling forest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Branches whipped at her arms and cheeks as she backpedaled, arms spinning out of control. Her heel caught on a sharply bent protrusion, and she was flung onto her seat. She slid backwards down a steep gradient. Rolling frantically, she tried to reverse her direction and ended up gliding through the brush on her side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ground fell away beneath her, and she shot out of a thicket into another small clearing, caroming into something soft and knocking it over with a shout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lay stunned on the leafy carpet, trying to recover some of her breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A muffled, irritable voice growled something unintelligible. The figure that she had pummeled swayed to its feet, cursing and grasping at some items on the ground. Her vision blurred slightly as she caught sight of a shabby grey robe that at one time may have been white. The figure stooped low, brushing at the dirt on its knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes righted herself and rose slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure’s head snapped up, and two blue eyes fixed her in piercing scrutiny. She got an impression that the person got the measure of her in an instant, looking straight through to the very hollows of her soul. There was a fierce, sharp intelligence behind this gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took him in as well, noting the white beard, rugged face, and firm grip on sword and staff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mithrandir,” she breathed. Somehow, there was no doubt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocked his eyes at her, then intoned, “You are no orc.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyebrows lifted. “No,” she confirmed. “Not an orc.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is a human girl doing in Fangorn Forest?” he demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to stop herself, she broke into a wide grin. “Rescuing you, old man,” she said. It occurred to her with delight that she was soon going to witness another joyous reunion, the portent of which she understood better now, and her heart stirred with anticipation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Old man?!” he spluttered, then his eyes widened in astonishment as the muddy woman before him burst out laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on!” she yelled, grasping at his sleeve and pulling him forward. She paused: “You are Mithrandir, right? Gandalf? The White Wizard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I am all three of these and many more names,” he snapped, snatching his arm away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I have got a huge treat for you,” she said. “Let’s get moving; I think the orcs are this way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold.” He planted his feet, and his eyes searched the forest around them. “My companion was with me a moment ago. We got separated; I must find him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” She hefted her shield. “Which direction?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They crashed through clinging undergrowth and emerged onto a dire scene. Twirling in an ever-shrinking circle of orcs was a slim, blonde-haired archer clad in green and wielding a bow with uncanny precision. He was a picture of fluid grace, the bow string singing as he let loose arrow after arrow, each finding its fatal target, yet as one fell ten more surged forward.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes and the wizard hollered and engaged the multitudes from the outside, hacking their way through to the center. The wizard stepped protectively in front of the beleaguered archer, pushing him back against a tree so that they were fighting on three fronts instead of four. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The training in the camps of Gondor had refined the rough edges in Tes’s fighting style, and she danced among the enemy with deadly finesse. She blocked with shield and struck with dagger, staying in ceaseless motion as she rolled over and under the goblins. One creature got in close enough to lay a hand on her; she jerked aside and tossed it over her shoulder, then stabbed it in the heart whilst still airborne. In the same moment, she used her shield to shove two more back into the spikes of their allies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mithrandir wielded both his staff and blade like battering rams, taking out great numbers with each blow. Behind him, the slender archer loosed arrows into the teeming crowd, catching many at their weak spots below the jawline. The three fighters held their ground, unable to diminish the forces that clawed at them, but successful in holding them off from further gains. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, with a roar, a fourth combatant entered the scene, taking up position at Tes’s side. He curled himself into a spiked ball and rolled headlong into the lines of their assailants, then came up swinging a wickedly-sharpened axe. He only came up to Tes’s shoulders, yet he fought like ten human warriors, and he shrugged off the blows of enemy clubs as if they were light taps on the surface of his helmet. With this new relief, they were able to press forward at last, and they cut through the orcs like a farmer’s plough through soft turf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much to Tes’s satisfaction, the remaining goblins cowered away from the triumphant quartet. Those that ran dashed into the waiting arms of the trees and met a quick end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having found respite at last, the four fighters stood in the meadow, chests heaving, surrounded on all sides by piles of slain orcs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two hobbits Merry and Pippin, upon seeing the face of their tall rescuer, uttered heartbreaking, jubilant cries and flung themselves into the human’s arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn dropped to his knees and held both tightly, kissing their soft, curled tresses. The three rested on the forest floor for a moment, weeping quiet, silver tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf turned in a slow circle, taking in the carnage around them. His eyes lighted on the red-haired human who had crashed into their midst and held her own so effectively against the tides of orcs. She still stood in a half-crouch, her green eyes searching the woods in readiness should they be beset again. She looked unusual to him, although there was little out of place about her physical appearance. She was a little short even for a female human, and her skin and clothing were grubby as if she had been dragged through a swamp. Yet there was an unfamiliar aura to her, almost as if she didn’t fully belong to the plane they inhabited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, then took stock of his other compatriots. Gimli the dwarf had moved over to the side of Legolas the elf, who was limping from a small black arrow protruding from his left calf. Clucking, Gimli supported his friend over to rest on a low stone, berating him for the injury in clipped tones. Gandalf could see anxiety in the dwarf’s eyes as he bent low to examine the wound, heedless of the elf’s objections.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf moved towards them, ushering the dwarf out of the way. “Be still, master elf. Let me take a look at that.” He placed his hand next to the wound, trying to see how deep the arrow had embedded itself. Legolas winced slightly at the wizard’s ministrations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Tis nothing,” he tried, but Gandalf shushed him. He grasped the arrow’s shaft and spoke a word of warning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This will hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Legolas clenched his jaw and nodded, bracing himself against the wizard’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noticing their activity, Tes turned and got a good look at the others just as Gandalf tugged the arrow free. The elf bent forward with a pained cry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The grass rustled underneath the footfalls of a new arrival in the meadow, and Gimli and Legolas swung their heads up, at first alarmed and then greatly bewildered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf, seeing their expressions, closed his eyes to collect himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, despite having beheld the end of the ranger’s life upon a Nazgûl’s blade, he did not feel amazed to hear his voice now as he called their names. Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and faced his human friend. Gandalf had a sense of something sliding back into place, as if the world was returning back to the way it should have been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He met Aragorn’s questioning gaze, and their shared look was long and full of pregnant meaning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he regarded the two hobbits who were with the man, one riding upon his shoulders and the other trailing in his wake. They had such looks of fierce joy on their faces that Gandalf could not help but be moved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He stepped forward and enfolded the human into a tender embrace, which the human returned warmly. Gandalf sighed as if a great burden had been lifted. “Estel, thou wert well-named,” he murmured into Aragorn’s ears, using his elvish alias, a word that meant “hope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across the meadow, Tes watched the reunion with a gratified smile, one hip cocked as she leaned casually with her arms crossed on the edge of her shield. “That just never gets old,” she said to no one in particular.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Fellowship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They spent three idle days in the shade of the Forest of Fangorn. </p><p>One peaceful morning, Tes rested with her arms behind her head, seated against one of the ancient knotted trees. She chewed lazily on a piece of grass.</p><p>“So the trees are alive, huh? As in, they can move and think?” </p><p>“Oh, yes,” answered the wizard, leaning back and smoking his pipe with half-lidded eyes. “If they were not, you would not be here.”</p><p>“Right.” Tes patted the massive roots by her side. “Thanks, buddy.”</p><p>Gandalf’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything, merely released a puff of smoke. </p><p>“You know, I think I might know one of your relatives,” Tes continued, her eyes unfocused as she gazed in the middle distance. “Or descendants. There’s this tree I named Tasar close to my family home that I would swear can move and talk. I never noticed it before, but I guess there’s a lot I haven’t noticed about the world.”</p><p>“Tasar?” repeated the wizard. “Are they a willow tree?”</p><p>“No, I think oak. Why?”</p><p>“Because ‘tasarin’ means ‘willow’ in Sindarin.”</p><p>“Oh, shoot! I always thought it meant ‘tree.’ Oops.”</p><p>“I imagine if they minded, they would let you know,” Gandalf said mildly.</p><p>“I suppose.” Speaking of Sindarin… Tes tilted her head to watch as Aragorn and Legolas strolled by, conversing at length in the gentle sibilances of the elvish peoples. “They do spend a lot of time together,” she mused.</p><p>“Jealous?” Gimli the dwarf stumped into the little clearing and sat down with a grunt on a stone. He unslung from his shoulder a brace of cony rabbits that he had snared while hunting and set to cleaning them with a small knife. </p><p>Tes laughed at him. “No more than you,” she giggled. “I’ve seen how you moon over the elf when he’s not around.”</p><p>The dwarf paused in his work and chucked a tuft of grass at her. “You mind your own business,” he grumbled. </p><p>Despite the banter, both beings had grown quite fond of one another since meeting three days past. Tes reminded herself to ask Gimli later about where he had gotten his helmet. She gathered that he was very proud of it - some kind of family heirloom. </p><p>“You know, we don’t have elves in the future,” Tes shared. “Or dwarves. Or hobbits. Or wizards. Or tree herders.”</p><p>“Tell us what you do have, that’d be a wonder,” the dwarf muttered. “Oh, you have humans. Of course. Humans, humans, humans, as far as the eye can see…”</p><p>“And technology,” Tes put in. “Great dirigibles sailing across the sky and cement thoroughfares running right down the center of Arda. You know, for the right price, it’s possible to get from one end of Arda to the other in less than a week.”</p><p>“And the internet,” interjected another voice cheerfully. One of the hobbits, Pippin, was propped against Gandalf’s robes smoking a pipe of his own, his smoke mingling with the wizard’s. He offered Tes a helpful smile and over-articulated the next phrase. “The ‘information superhighway.’”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Tes said with a chuckle. Clearly, she had been talking too much about her own world, although it was a future that she could not have missed less. She fervently doubted Pippin had any conception of what a computer might be, much less the internet. </p><p>“I think I would hate it,” Gandalf grumped. “Too much knowledge whizzing back and forth through the air, and no one taking the time to make out what it actually might mean. No one having any time at all to think. Just going and going.” He closed his eyes, growing drowsy. “Going and going and going…”</p><p>Pippin and Gimli looked at Tes, who shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”</p><p>“Sounds terrible,” said Pippin.</p><p>“It has its moments.” </p><p>After a little while, she asked, “What is Sindarin for ‘tree,’ anyway?”</p><p>“Galad,” answered Legolas, who stepped into the circle followed by Aragorn. The two friends sat close together on the ground, folding their legs lotus-style. Legolas took one of the conies from Gimli and began to skin it while Aragorn laid some small branches in a circle for a cooking fire. He struck two stones together, trying to get them to spark to start the fire going. </p><p>The wood was damp, and the Forest of Fangorn was resistant to fire anyway, so this had never been an easy process. Tes crawled over to him and pulled out a small, square-shaped object from her pocket. “Let me,” she said. She held the object to the base of the wood and flicked it open.</p><p>A tiny flame appeared out of nowhere on its corner. She held it there for a few moments until the pile started smoking, then kindled into crackling life. </p><p>Aragorn stared and said flatly, “Why have you never shown me this before?”</p><p>“Didn’t occur to me. You were always so proud of your fires.”</p><p>Pippin had edged closer and examined the little box in Tes’s hand with fascination. “What is that?”</p><p>“It’s called a lighter. Want to try?”</p><p>She was about to toss it to the hobbit when Aragorn reached out and held her arm. “No, best keep that yourself,” he cautioned. He gave the hobbit an irritated look. “Pippin has a tendency to get over-enthusiastic,” he added. “We don’t want the entire forest burning down with us in it.”</p><p>Pippin rolled his eyes, but he settled back. “Didn’t want it anyway,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Where’s Merry?” Tes asked, noting the other hobbit’s absence for the first time. </p><p>“With the Ents, probably,” answered Pippin with a sigh. “He’s always spending time with them these days.”</p><p>***</p><p>Although Aragorn’s return had cheered him considerably, Merry still found the company of the tree herders more tolerable than that of his companions. They spoke more slowly and thoughtfully, and their thoughts ran much deeper and farther than the troubles of the ephemeral present. Losing Frodo and Sam, seeing Aragorn fall in battle, and watching the world decay around him following the downfall of the free world, had all but broken Merry. Amidst the never-ending toils of war, he had discovered that Ents had a much longer perspective on life, and he took comfort in their equanimity. </p><p>At this moment, he rode on the branches of the one known as Treebeard, the oldest Ent and the only one who spoke fluent Common. Treebeard did not mind the hobbit; he had discovered in Merry a willing audience for his poetry. It may have discomfited him (though not seriously) to learn that Merry’s attentive remarks masked the fact that his thoughts were usually far away during Treebeard’s renderings. </p><p>Riding on the head of the tree herder, Merry could see far and wide over the Forest of Fangorn, and the view nearly always made up for the conversation. Mist clung to the canopies, wending through the topmost branches and cloaking them in mysterious shrouds. The forest stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions, covering the hills and plains where it had settled in the Eastfold following the fall of Gondor. On clear mornings, the sun shone crisply, refracting into colorful twinkles of light in the dew that clung to the leaves and decorating the clouds with shades of pink and orange. It seemed that, corrupt though the shadow’s influence may be, Fangorn contained an older power that kept it whole and safe from the ruining of the world. Merry was feeling more and more certain these days that he never wanted to leave its borders. </p><p>“Barum,” rumbled the Ent, bringing Merry back to the present. Treebeard had been meditating on the news Merry had brought to him three days hence and had finally formed some thoughts on the matter. “Young master Aragorn has returned alive, then?”</p><p>“Yes, Treebeard, that’s what I’ve been saying,” Merry answered with tired patience. “He says he doesn’t remember the battle the same way that we do. He says Frodo dropped the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom and Sauron was destroyed, and everything went back to normal. Better than normal, because then Gondor had a king again, and the white tree bloomed. Whatever that actually means.”</p><p>“Hrrrrhhmmm.” Treebeard understood the implications of this last statement far better than the hobbit, possibly better than Gandalf himself, and he compared this outcome to the one before his eyes now - Sauron almost at full power, the natural world shriveling as the evil from Mordor spread and orcs covered the land, and fires burning in the Forest itself, injuring the trees and disturbing the life that had taken sanctuary there. Already several Ents had fallen under the axes of goblins whose swarms had so swelled in number that they were able to overwhelm the smaller tree herders. Fangorn’s position in this world was far less secure than Merry believed.</p><p>Treebeard believed that the ending of the world was inevitable at one point or another, and at first he had thought to push Fangorn northward, away from the shadow of the southlands; to allow the cold of the far north to lull the trees into a peaceful eternal sleep far preferable to the mayhem that they now faced. Yet once awoken by the furies of battle, the trees had been more resistant to falling into slumber than even the tree herder had guessed, and traveling north had turned out to be impossible. When Mithrandir and his ragged party had fled into the Forest to regroup nearly two years past, Treebeard’s heart had been moved by the travelers’ lost, hopeless countenance; truly their plight had been desperate indeed for them to believe that they would be sheltered in Fangorn Forest. </p><p>Gandalf seemed to think that things had not turned out as they were meant to, and he had never given up believing in the existence of a brighter future. So Treebeard instead moved the Forest south to watch over the plains of Gondor, keep the orcs at bay from moving northward in any serious force, and give Mithrandir space to think and plan. If it was true that all their fates were tied one way or another to the consequences of war, then Treebeard had decided he would play an active role in the events of this age. </p><p>And now, with these new arrivals… and there was the troubling matter of the relic they carried… </p><p>“Strange doings,” Treebeard mused slowly. “Strange doings indeed. I smell the work of old magic.”</p><p>“What are you going to do?” asked the hobbit.</p><p>“Barárum. Do? I am going to do nothing. The doing, young hobbit, must be left to you and your kind. For my part, I am going to speak to the wizard. There are too many questions without answers, and the sooner they are addressed, the better.”</p><p>During this speech, delivered in the halting manner of the Ents, Treebeard swung around in a wide arc and began to make his way to the center of the Forest where the Fellowship rested. Merry clung tightly to the branches as the wind whipped through his hair, and he tried to quell the unease that sprang up at Treebeard’s suggestion that he would have to play a part in the events to follow.</p><p>***</p><p>Dusk fell as Aragorn and Legolas continued their perambulations through the woods, moving hither and thither without paying much heed to direction but ever staying within sight or sound of the others. They at times held discussions in the grey tongue and at times walked together in silence, just enjoying each other’s company.</p><p>
  <em> Legolas Greenleaf recalled his own experience following the fall of Gondor. In the camps of men, he and the rest of the Fellowship found tense succor, and the elf’s thoughts drifted frequently to the fate of his kin. His mind wandered longingly towards the halls of Valinor, and he yearned for sight of the sea and the undying lands; yet he stayed with the humans and fought by their sides, spurred on by the grim determination in Mithrandir’s eyes and the bloodlust of Gimli the dwarf.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was how it was when one of his own people found him, a Wood Elf warrior from Mirkwood who had made the perilous journey south in search of him. His father Thranduil, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, was preparing to take the last of the Wood Elves to the Grey Havens, and he was offering the prince one last opportunity to join the final ships departing Middle Earth. Thranduil had determined that he himself would not leave without certain word from his son, and he awaited him by the sea.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The warrior, who had the same blonde hair as Legolas but was much shorter in stature, related all this with earnest concern, for he could already see in Legolas’s eyes a lessening of spirit, a fading of will that marked him as fatally bound to the world’s destiny. The warrior had been a faithful member of the prince’s guard since their shared childhood in millenia past, and he did not want to abandon him to the doom they all faced. Long into the night, he urged Legolas to consider his own good and that of his father. When the prince proved too stubborn, he asked him to remember their own friendship, and he pressed him further with tears in his eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finally, as morning’s first light streaked the eastern horizon, Legolas took his friend’s hands and gave him his answer. “My will is no longer my own, and my heart cannot find peace in this or any other land. I have seen friends whom I love perish by the work of the dark shadow spreading from the east, and I have watched this beautiful realm rot in corruption and ruin. If I believed this was truly Arda’s final ending, I could be unburdened, and gladly would I accompany you to the ships of my father. But Mithrandir believes there is another hope for us, though he cannot conceive what it might be. As long as he stays, as long as they all remain to fight for their freedom, I must stand with them. We are bonded by more than loyalty. I cannot explain further.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then, he unclipped a small brooch from his belt and placed it in the warrior’s hand. It was shaped in the crest of the royal family of the Wood Elves, and he had worn it all his days. It marked him as the heir to the Woodland throne. Giving it to the warrior, Legolas relinquished his claim to his heritage forever. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The warrior elf said bitterly, “You will be sundered from the Eldar and will die a mortal death.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then let that be my fate,” Legolas answered. Then, in a softer voice, “It is my decision, my friend.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But your father, Legolas.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If he does not understand, tell him…” Legolas paused and then continued, “Tell him that the voices of my sister and my mother bid me stay. And tell him goodbye.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Silvan warrior swallowed past the lump in his throat and bowed deeply. “Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.” <sup>[2]</sup> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Maybe so, my friend,” Legolas whispered. “Maybe so.” </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>In the starlight, Tes made her way quietly down to a shallow creek hidden from view by a cluster of reeds. </p><p>She had gone camping many times before, often in the company of men, and therefore had developed discreet bathing into an artform. The rest of their company had fallen asleep, so she took advantage of the momentary privacy to rinse the worst of the dirt from her features and hair. While she splashed the water over herself, she absent-mindedly hummed an upbeat melody. </p><p>She lay on her back on a rock to air dry, reluctant to get back into her stiffening clothing. The surface of the stone was still warm from the heat of the day, and she relaxed into a half-awake dream. After a short time, she shook herself awake and pulled her shirt and pants back on. She gathered the belt and scabbard containing her sword - musing with a grin and an incredulous shake of her head that her life truly had changed in some spectacular ways if a sword was now standard equipment - and climbed the short distance back to the camp and her bedroll.</p><p>Her progress was arrested by a small shape that detached itself from the gloom. She blinked and hissed, “Hey, who is that?”</p><p>“Merry, m’lady. Sorry to disturb you. I was just wondering -”</p><p>“I was taking a bath! I thought everyone else was asleep!”</p><p>“I wasn’t peeping, honest. I just wanted to know - what was that song you were singing?”</p><p>The hobbit had a forlorn air, and in response Tes’s defenses lowered a little. “It was just an old pop song,” she said. “Nothing special about it.”</p><p>“Would…” he hesitated. “Would you teach it to me?”</p><p>Her eyebrows lifted, and her teeth flashed in a smile. “Teach it to you? Sure, I guess, but it might not make a lot of sense to you. Some of the lyrics are pretty period-specific.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s okay, m’lady. I’d just like to learn the tune.”</p><p>“Alright.” Tes drew him to sit on a mossy log beside her and thought about how best to convey the song. “Hmmm. Well, the first line goes like this.”</p><p>She sang the first verse, a perky theme that rose and fell in stepwise fashion. “Now, you try it.”</p><p>He attempted to reproduce the melody, but his tongue stumbled over the words and he lost the music quickly. Tes shook her head. “No, not like that. Let’s try it this way. Just sing it on a nonsense syllable, like ‘na.’”</p><p>“‘Na?’” the hobbit asked doubtfully.</p><p>“Trust me. Now from the top…”</p><p>They worked their way through the song, Merry finding it much easier to concentrate on the melody without worrying about the words. Soon, he was humming it by himself, and his aspect brightened somewhat. </p><p>As he rolled into a repetition, Tes started to accompany him with mouth percussion. The new sound threw him off, and he stopped abruptly. “What is that?”</p><p>“It’s called ‘beatboxing.’ It’s a way to imitate a drum kit when you don’t have one available.”</p><p>“What’s a drum kit?”</p><p><em> Curious hobbit </em>, thought Tes. “A type of percussion setup. It’s got a bass drum and snares and cymbals and… look, Merry, if I have to explain drum kits to you we might as well stay up all night. Just go with it, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>She counted them off: “One, two, three, four…” </p><p>They launched into a spirited rendition of the song, Merry leaping happily around the melody while Tes kept time with a steady <em> bttt tspppksh tsp tsp tspppksh tsp </em>. After a while, she started to tap out a simple counter rhythm on her knees, and she interwove “yeah” and “oh” here and there between intervals. They carried on like this for a few minutes before ending on a long closing note, Tes tossing her head back and lifting her own voice in harmony. </p><p>Silence fell around them, and Merry could be heard saying quietly, “Oh, yeah.”</p><p>“That was good,” said Tes with a laugh. “I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”</p><p>“Hire me? Like for a job?”</p><p>“For a gig. In my band.”</p><p>“You’re in a band?”</p><p>“Oh, yes. I own a band, actually.”</p><p>“Wow.” The hobbit’s eyes shone in the starlight. “I’d listen to you perform every night,” he proclaimed.</p><p>“Well, don’t make promises you can’t keep. Our sound gets kind of old after a while.”</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t think your music could ever get old.”</p><p>“Gosh, you’d be my number one fan in a different life,” Tes chuckled. “Look, Merry, I have got to get some shut-eye. Can we continue this tomorrow?”</p><p>“Oh, yes! Sorry, m’lady. I didn’t mean to keep you awake.”</p><p>“No worries. And, Merry? Enough of the ‘m’lady’ stuff. I’m Tes. Or Tenlyssa. Or ‘hey you.’”</p><p>“Yes, m’la- Yes, Tes.”</p><p>“That’s better.”</p><p>She came back to the campsite and slid into her bedroll, shutting her tired eyes gratefully. After a little while, Merry returned and settled down next to Pippin, soon falling fast asleep.</p><p>In the dark, Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a private, thoughtful glance. The singing had woken both, and they had listened without stirring, not wanting to interrupt the impromptu session. They had each felt something leap in response to the music, but what it was neither could put into words. Their shared experience could be seen in one another’s eyes; for Legolas, it had been stronger. The elf stood soundlessly and moved off to be alone among the trees. </p><p>Aragorn sat up all the rest of that night in pensive meditation, his chin cupped in his hand. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><sup>[2]</sup> Closing line of Galadriel’s song in The Fellowship of the Ring (book version). Rough translation: “Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.” Source: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/galadriels-song-eldamar-galadriels-song-eldamar.html</p><p>GENERAL NOTE: the flashback with Legolas has him speaking with an unnamed character who is in fact a cameo from the Mellon Chronicles. My attempts to get in touch with the author to ask for permission to use their OC have thus far been unsuccessful, so to honor their request not to use their OC's without permission, I have removed this character's name. If by some stroke of luck I am able to get permission down the line I will put the name back in, but for now, it will have to be guessed via context clues. Including this character was a nod to a series that I am still working my way through, but have decided that I absolutely, wholeheartedly love.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Council</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gandalf called them together in the late morning, his expression somber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have much to discuss and decide,” he said by way of opening. He sat on a tall stone while the other members of the Fellowship and Tes perched in various attentive postures around him. Legolas sat on a tree branch high above their heads, legs dangling down; Gimli took up his place directly below, leaning on his axe. Aragorn stood with arms crossed on the opposite side of the circle. Merry, Tes, and Pippin sat together on a low log facing Gandalf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been speaking with Treebeard,” the wizard told them. “The attacks by the orcs are worsening, and he is not sure how long he and the other Ents can hold them off. Our position here may not be secure for much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where else can we go?” Merry asked despondently. “Fangorn is the safest place in Middle Earth right now. Everywhere else there’s monsters and blight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is the question we must determine the answer to,” said Gandalf. “The way that I see it, we have three options. We can stay here and continue our work weakening the orc hordes making their way north. We can head to the Misty Mountains to hide the relic and keep it from falling into enemy hands. Or, we can go south to Mordor itself and try to determine the fate of the One Ring, and to finish the Ringbearer’s task if we can. Each path is fraught with great peril, and it is my strong suggestion that we make this decision with one mind, for if we do not work together, we will certainly fail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how do we know that Sauron does not already have the Ring?” asked Gimli. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn shook his head. “If Sauron had the Ring, we would know,” he said firmly. “I agree with Faramir in this instance - the Ring still remains hidden, although now unfortunately from us as well.” He turned to Gandalf, his eyes gentle. “Do we know for absolute certain that Frodo and Sam did not make it out of the dark lands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf’s face filled with great sadness. “Yes,” he said, and it looked as though the word cost him dearly. “The eagles themselves confirmed it. They are lost.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn looked away, his face clouded with dark disappointment. Even until now, he had been holding onto the faint hope that Faramir had been misinformed and the two hobbits had somehow survived and made their way into the wilds. Merry and Pippin both stared down at the ground, blinking hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then,” Gimli continued, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen, “where exactly is the Ring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is a question we have been unable to answer for three years,” Legolas said. “For my part, I do not think we are well served by returning to Mordor. We will only run into orc armies, and we will be unable to advance far before we are overwhelmed. The great Eye sees all who approach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am inclined to agree,” said Gandalf. “There is no sneaking into the Black Lands; not anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, there is the matter of the relic, and our unexplained visitor.” His eyes fell on Tes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifted in place, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explain to us again how it was that you came in possession of this,” Gandalf instructed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Possession’ is a strong word,” she corrected testily. “I honestly don’t know how it activated the first time. I was hiking, like I told you before, and just saw it shining on the ground. I picked it up, them </span>
  <em>
    <span>bam</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I was two thousand years in the past in Minas Tirith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It transported you through time and space upon physical contact?” he clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yes, I guess. Although it doesn’t necessarily follow that the two are related.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you touched it since then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes thought, then answered with mild surprise, “No, I don’t think so. Someone else has always held it - Strider, Faramir, you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She broke off when Gandalf stood and walked to stand before her. He looked down at her, his lips pursed in thought, then suddenly he leaned forward and pressed the cool metal of the relic solidly against her bare forearm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” she protested, and both Aragorn and Gimli started forward with a shout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought not,” murmured Gandalf half to himself. “Must be some other trigger…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes jerked her arm away. “Keep that thing away from me,” she snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course. My apologies.” He turned and went back to his stone, the twinkle in his eye not lost on Aragorn. His face lit up with another idea, and he said, “Were you doing anything unusual before you saw the relic on the ground? Besides hiking, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she answered. Then, she remembered her encounter with the veiled woman. “Well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met someone... odd. They were wandering around my campsite, which was in some ruins up in the mountains by the White City. They wanted me to play an elegy for fallen soldiers. I didn’t really want to, but I thought it wouldn’t be right to leave without doing something in their memory, so I made up a little something on the spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did?” Merry leaned forward, his eyes brightening. “Can you sing it for us now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, Merry. I don’t remember it at all, and besides, it wasn’t very good. It just came from the top of my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a singer?” Pippin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, but let’s not get off track.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you any good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pippin…” Aragorn redirected the hobbit wearily. Then, he picked up the thread. “Singing to honor the dead is nothing unusual, but what is strange, Tenlyssa, is that despite the fact that you come from a time in which elves and magic do not exist, you have very uncommon knowledge. How to make lembas bread. Or how to sing the hymn to Varda in perfect Sindarin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The what now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Elbereth Gilthoniel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That! Oh, yes, I forgot about that. I’m sorry, Strider,” and she spread her hands, “but I’m afraid that’s nothing strange from my perspective. Waybread has been a family recipe from as far back as anyone can remember, and as for the elbereth, that’s a really famous poem where I’m from. No one has ever been able to translate it adequately, but it has a pretty sound to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘O Elbereth Starkindler,” intoned Legolas, drawing Tes’s startled gaze upwards, “white glittering slants down/sparkling like jewels/from firmament glory the star-host!/To-remote distance far-having gazed/from tree-tangled middle-lands/Fanuilos, to thee I will chant/on this side of ocean, here on this side of the Great Ocean!’”</span> <sup>[4]</sup>
  <span> He looked down at her with a small smile. “There is more, but that is how it begins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth fell open. “It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inclined his head in a simple bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hrmph. Yes, well, more to the point, who was this stranger you met?” Gandalf interjected. “Did you get a name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I didn’t ask. They were wearing a veil, and I didn’t see a face, but I thought it might be a woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you went for a long walk, met someone in the middle of nowhere, sang a song, touched a shiny piece of metal, and found yourself here,” Gimli summarized dryly. “That about clears up everything, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anything about that is clear to you, you must enlighten me later,” Legolas said lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gandalf,” Pippin asked, “do you know anything at all about the relic? Don’t you recognize it from your travels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf </span>
  <em>
    <span>humphed</span>
  </em>
  <span> irritably again. “Regrettably, no, master hobbit, and I don’t mind telling you that I don’t like being in the dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Pippin looked disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It,” entered a much lower voice from far above their heads, “is old. Though not quite as old as me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Treebeard, who had been standing to the side of the circle unnoticed since the beginning of the conversation, creaked his eyes open and looked down at the group. Tes jumped a little, but the others didn’t react. They had all gotten used to Ents blending in with their surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf held the relic up for Treebeard’s examination. “Do you know anything about this, my friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not, barum. However, if it is answers you seek, you may find some in a certain place, though it is not a place you may wish to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What place is that?” Gandalf asked apprehensively. He was growing tired of riddles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The tower of Orthanc. Barárum.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard’s expression darkened. “You are correct,” he said dejectedly. “I do not wish to return to that place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” said Aragorn, surprising them. He unfolded his arms. “One of my first orders as king was for the tower to be restored, its vaults unlocked and contents catalogued. There are ancient texts and great volumes of history stored there, as well as forgotten treasures from ages past. We may indeed find the answers we seek in that tower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will take you there myself,” offered Treebeard. “Mayhap you will find what you need to undo some of the damage caused by these dark days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Undo?” Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows at the towering tree herder. “That is a tall order, even if we do discover this relic’s secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can but try,” Aragorn insisted, his eyes eager.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf looked concerned, but he just nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then away to Orthanc,” Gimli concluded with little enthusiasm. “Because things went so well for us there the last time.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><sup>[4]</sup> Source: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/A_Elbereth_Gilthoniel</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Orthanc</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Orthanc rose like a black spike into the sky from a circular plain of water and debris. The sky was slate-gray with clouds when they arrived, seated in various perches on Treebeard, who easily bore all seven of them across the entirety of Emnet through the night to the tower’s base. From a distance, they could see the reflection of the tower and the clouds in the water below, and it gave them an ominous feeling. Moving in close, they tilted their heads back as far as they could, but they could only just see past its blocky corners to the sharp spires at its summit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t suppose this is still standing in the future, is it?” Gimli asked Tes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is, but it’s not a wizard’s tower,” she answered with some embarrassment. “It’s used for air traffic control. This whole area is a landing port for dirigibles.” She indicated the plain on which they stood. “It’s much drier, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It must be a strange place, the future,” said Merry, shaking his head as he tried and failed to imagine Isengard as an airport. Earlier, he and Pippin had asked Tes what a dirigible was, and she had told them to think of it as a “giant floating gas bag with people inside.” Now, he was struggling to picture what scores of the bloated behemoths would look like on the ground. He was almost positive he had it wrong. After all, the passengers had to be able to walk </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn grimly observed the tower without comment. It depressed him to think of the mighty structures of ages past being used in such a comely manner, all their history forgotten. To think of Orthanc as a place of commerce, when it contained such uncountable treasures within… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf, guessing his thoughts, patted him lightly on the shoulder and said, “Come, Aragorn. We have enough work to do in the here and now.” The human shook himself and nodded in reply, refocusing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tree herder lowered them to the stone steps at the base and bid them farewell. “I must return to Fangorn. Good luck, young master Gandalf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Same to you, Treebeard. If we have need of you, we will send word.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How?</span>
  </em>
  <span> wondered Tes, but there was no time to ask. The wizard led them all up the stairs and into the bowels of Orthanc. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were literally thousands of stairs inside. Thousands. Tes wished passionately for an elevator. Just one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>About halfway up the tower, Gandalf called a halt to the exhausted party. Both hobbits leaned forward, their hands on their knees, gasping. Gimli sank to the ground and shut his eyes. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf looked as composed as if they had just taken a stroll across a grassy meadow. Tes gave them a nasty look through slitted eyes as she tried to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had already passed hundreds of storerooms, but the wizard refused to allow exploration. “We know little about what is kept here,” he cautioned. “There could be powerful items much more dangerous than the relic we carry. We wouldn’t want to worsen our situation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d take a flying carpet,” Tes quipped. Legolas snorted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf turned to the giant double doors they had paused in front of and pushed them open with a grinding </span>
  <em>
    <span>creak</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They entered a massive library, with tomes of knowledge stacked high upon shelves that receded into darkness. “We might find something useful in here. Of course,” the wizard growled, “who knows what sort of filing system Saruman used. Try to avoid anything filed under ‘F’ for ‘fatal’ or ‘T’ for ‘treacherous.’ And if you see anything you don’t recognize, for goodness’ sake, don’t touch it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that dubious warning, he set off into the stacks, muttering to himself as he ran his fingers along the spines of dusty books. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They each chose a different direction, handling book after book with great care. Most were written in languages none of them could read. After a while, Tes, bored by the process, quit looking in books and went in search of a chair. She came across Gimli kneeling on the ground, surrounded by maps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now this was something she could understand. She sat next to him and peered at the spread of images. “Those are the Misty Mountains,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aye,” Gimli said approvingly. “I grew up in this region and know it well. Yet I have not seen this pass before.” He traced a small pathway with his finger from Isengard all the way through to Dunland on the other side of the range. “Saruman, the traitorous worm, seems to have left himself an out in case things went badly for him during the war. Look at this.” He pointed to several markings along the trail with the appearance of stars with uneven points. “Insurance,” Gimli murmured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Insurance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless I am much mistaken, these stars represent explosions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caused by magic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of a sort.” Gimli sat back and peered into the middle distance, his mind far away in memory. “Saruman invented a peculiar device that he used in warfare to shatter rocks and break apart buildings. I never found out what specifically made it work, but it is said to have been caused by fire inducing stone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like gunpowder.” Tes frowned. “I didn’t know that existed in this time period.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever it is, young human, it is best left undisturbed.” Gimli actually shuddered. “I’ve seen it rip apart impenetrable walls.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Tes shrugged, unsurprised. “Regardless of what gets in the way, gunpowder always wins.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pragmatic as ever, Gimli rolled the maps up and stored them in his pockets. “These may come in handy later,” he said. “You never know when you might need a secret backdoor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn completed a circuit of the library and rejoined with Gandalf, who was poring over one particular book in a corner. The wizard looked up as the man approached. “This may be something,” he said promisingly, pointing down at a line of script written in old high dwarvish. “It’s a record from one of the old mines, one that predates Moria. Apparently, mithril was not the only metal discovered in the deeps. Listen to this. ‘Underneath the veins of mithril,’” he translated, “‘there is another vein, much deeper and scarcer. This metal reflects light oddly, and it falls away from the rock in preformed shapes that cannot be changed with fire.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled the relic from an interior pocket of his robe and held it out for their inspection. “Sound familiar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beholding it once more, Aragorn again marked how it bent and refracted light in odd directions, behaving not at all like other reflective metals he had seen. He observed it more closely as Gandalf turned it slowly in a shaft of dull sunlight that shone down from a high window. The reflection from the sun danced off the surface facing the shaft, flickering rapidly from one side to the other nearly too fast for the eye to follow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have never seen metal do that to light. What is causing it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Gandalf said. “Yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they studied it, the light wavered then stabilized, and an internal source brightened it from within. It started to vibrate and radiate heat. Aragorn leapt back with a shout, his hand going to his sword hilt. “Put it down, Gandalf. Put it down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hastily, the wizard dropped it on the table and backed away also, wielding his staff defensively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The last time it did this, everything changed for the worse,” Aragorn hissed. “We must stop it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf felt uncharacteristically helpless. “How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gimli and Tes heard Aragorn’s shout and looked up in alarm. They could not see the wizard or the human past the stacks, but they could see beams of light dancing off the walls in colorful rainbows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An icy feeling stole over Tes’s body, and she gasped in shock. Her eyes widened and she raised her hands in front of her face. Gimli whirled to face her and yelled. Before her horrified eyes, his entire aspect changed. The outlines of his body became crisp and defined, and all his features transformed to glass. He slowed until he was motionless, suspended in a world of colorless light. All around her the rest of her surroundings stilled, and colors peeled away to shades of silver and gray. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes spun around in the twilight, trying to get her bearings. The library had frozen; she was the only thing in it still moving. From the very air shivered a sense of menace, and she immediately drew her sword and gripped her shield. She tried to face the source of menace, but it seemed to come from every direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you?” she said, and her voice bent shrilly back in her ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The edges of the stacks trembled in response, and then her surroundings started to discorporate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she yelled. “Not again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a jeering rush and the ground quaked. Tes lost her footing and stumbled forward, jumping from the polished tower floor to land in gray dust. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Stopped</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dazedly, Tes stepped in a slow circle, trying to find some point of reference to latch onto. Her stomach twisted with anxiety for those left behind in the library. The last time she had seen her surroundings dissolve, innocent people had gotten hurt. Her muscles ached with tension.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malice was all around, saturating the air. Paralyzing dread crept over her, making even the simplest movement seem impossibly hard. Her eyes darted back and forth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood on a downfacing slope, gravel and grit under her boots. Sharp black rocks protruded from the ground in all directions, filling the plain below with deformed shadows. Across the horizon, a dark range of mountains rose like the edges of a bowl. A corridor of ridges led in a ramrod-straight line to a tower in the middle distance directly in front of the embankment she stood upon. She followed the black line of the tower up, up, until her eyes rested on what stood upon the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart seized, and she gulped against the dryness in her throat. Atop that barbed tower, a huge, fiery eye directed an orange beam across the landscape. Its gaze was fixed motionless on something at the edges of its domain. There was no doubt that, if it turned, it would see her and destroy her with one thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, and her chest squeezed in a painful bind. Sparks danced in her vision. It felt very much like she was going to die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet the eye remained focused elsewhere, oblivious to her presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ordered her hammering heart to slow and took some deep breaths, counting as she did so. The symptoms of a panic attack were all too familiar, and she had had much practice in easing herself back into a state of physical calm, although the reasons for her fear didn’t abate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked around for some cover and noticed that she stood about ten yards away from an entrance on the side of the mountain. The interior glowed with an orange light, which did not look at all inviting, but she reasoned that it still was better than standing out here in the open for the eye to see when it finally detected her. She made her way to the entrance, passing apprehensively between its struts to the cavern within. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hesitated before an unnerving sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three figures stood, frigid like statues locked in a moment of pain, betrayal, and defeat. They were small, like hobbits. One, his face dirty and grief-crumpled, was mid-shout and stretching out his hand, reaching for two others who had just stumbled off the edge of a precipice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing, she stepped around him to look more closely at the others. They were poised above the abyss, the second hobbit’s eyes lit with a terrible rage and jealousy and the other’s - not really a hobbit, not quite an orc - shining with a pathetic triumph as he held up two empty fingers. Tes had the feeling that he was meant to be grasping something, but she could not imagine what it might be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked, wondering what all this might mean, when a fuzzy shadow darted through the air directly above the chasm. She leapt back and grabbed her sword…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… and fell backwards into black nothingness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn and Gandalf stood well back from the relic, unable to do much besides watch in fear as it jumped and rattled alarmingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shivered, then grew still and quiet again, and the light coming from within faded. Within a moment, it looked as benign as before. Both beings let out huge sighs and eased their grips on their weapons. Aragorn puffed out his cheeks and exchanged a wide-eyed glance with the wizard, shaking his head. Before they could speak, however, Gimli’s voice sounded: “Gandalf! Gandalf, come quickly! It’s Tes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pelted through the stacks and rounded a corner to see the dwarf kneeling next to the woman’s fallen form, holding her hand and swatting her cheek in an attempt to rouse her. Gandalf pushed him away and bent over her. The woman’s skin had turned ashen gray, and she gaped frozenly at some unseen horror. Taking her hand, he noted that she was ice cold and had stopped breathing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Aragorn exclaimed softly, dropping to his knees on the other side of her. From elsewhere in the library, the elf and two hobbits ran towards them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Legolas asked with concern. He stopped and looked down in dismay at Tes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you help her? Is she dead?” asked Aragorn anxiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhh,” Gandalf admonished, and he placed a hand on Tes’s forehead and shut his eyes. He whispered a few quiet words of prayer. “Not dead,” he said indistinctly. “Merely stopped.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but then the woman took a deep breath, distracting him. He looked down and saw with relief that her color was returning quickly and her eyes lost their glazed aspect. She squeezed them closed and began to shudder violently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf shrugged out of his outer cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, helping her to sit up. “Get a fire going,” he said. “We need to get her warm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn touched Gimli’s shoulder and led him away to a firepit by the library’s entrance. The two worked quickly, and within minutes, a small blaze was crackling. Gandalf led the woman on unsteady legs to sit down by the fire and rubbed her shoulders to get her circulation going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As her shivers died down and she became more alert, Tes related to them what she had seen, struggling to find words that would make sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Six deeply worried faces looked at her across the fire when she was finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is no coincidence,” Gandalf said grimly. “Your collapse and the relic’s activation happened at precisely the same moment. And as for what you saw…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was Frodo and Sam,” interrupted Pippin fiercely. “And that other filthy creature must have been Gollum. He was knocking them over the side into the lava below. He was going to kill them -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He broke off and stormed away, seething. Merry said uncertainly after him, “I don’t know if that’s exactly what she said, Pip…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pippin was already too far away to hear, and he wasn’t listening, anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes frowned. She was still feeling weak, and her bewilderment at her experience threatened to overwhelm her. “But Frodo and Sam aren’t...” she looked helplessly at Aragorn. “I don’t get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were in Mordor, I think,” Aragorn explained gently. “You saw the Eye of Sauron and went inside Mount Doom, and it sounds like you stumbled upon the exact moment the Ring was destroyed. Or was supposed to be. Yet you said the third creature - Gollum - had nothing in his hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded. “Nothing. But that didn’t seem right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And everyone was frozen like statues,” Gandalf said thoughtfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. There’s more, too - before I went to Mordor - or had a vision, or whatever happened - I was here in the library, except everything sort of turned into colorless glass. It’s really hard to describe, but I can picture it clear as day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf’s head snapped up, and he looked sharply at her. “To glass? Are you certain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As certain as I can be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then it all faded? Is this the same thing that happened to you the last time the relic was active?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, and not exactly. Mithrandir, what happened to me? Is it going to keep happening?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I truly do not know,” he answered unhappily. “Believe me, Tes, I wish that I did. We are still too far away from knowing anything tangible about this relic, except that when it is active, it affects you -” he pointed at Tes - “and not you.” He pointed at Aragorn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ranger said, “But Gandalf, what about when it activated inside the palace?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You chose to jump through a ‘wound in the air,’ if I recall correctly. To put it differently, you leapt into a portal and came out the other side into a different world. But it did not inherently alter your state of being the way it altered Tes’s, who was nowhere near the relic when her reality changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes pulled the edges of the robe tighter around her. She was beginning to feel very much like she had some kind of disease and was being told by the doctors that they just didn’t know and needed to run more tests. It frightened her in a way that she did not like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is not my fault,” she said, as much to reassure herself as anyone else. “What is happening to the relic and to this world - </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> world - is someone else’s doing, and whether it’s Sauron or one of the Ringwraiths or somebody else, I would very much like to find out who and see them answer for it. Wouldn’t you guys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up from the fire and met the steady gazes of her companions. They surveyed her each in turn, weighing her words, and Legolas leaned forward. “There is nothing more we would like,” said the elf firmly. “Gandalf, what is our next move?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stroking his white beard, the wizard said, “I believe we should visit those ancient dwarven mines to see just what sort of metal they uncovered besides mithril. If we find its source, we may also discover its mechanism, and more importantly, how to turn it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just where are these mines supposed to be?” Gimli asked suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I seriously hope you do not mean Moria,” added Aragorn. At the mention of that place, Tes’s eyes grew huge, and she looked pleadingly at Gandalf, recalling the story of the Balrog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Gandalf assured them with a slight laugh. “No, not Moria. They lie not far from Isengard, in fact, if my ancient dwarvish is to be trusted. But I am not sure how to get to them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gimli rubbed his hands smugly. “I might be able to help with that.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Hospitality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They spent a single uncomfortable night in Orthanc’s library, then set out at first light under a cloudy sky, making for the hidden pass on Gimli’s map. Legolas left the party to scout ahead, and he returned quickly with the warning that they were not alone. Their exit from Orthanc had been marked by a roaming band of orcs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn things,” said Tes under her breath. Weary of goblins and orcs, the Fellowship traveled as swiftly and silently as possible, hoping not to encounter the beasts. They were not so fortunate, however; a few hours after dawn, they were beset on all sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a word was exchanged; the Fellowship fell into formation with battle-hardened instincts, and Tes dropped to cover Strider’s wing as had become her wont. It was barely a skirmish by their standards, and after it was over, what little there was remaining of the orc band retreated hastily into the mountains. “We are lucky they weren’t riding wargs,” Gimli declared. “Then, we would have had a fight on our hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf cautioned, “Don’t tempt the fates,” and they carried on. All that long day and into the next, they moved slowly along the hidden pass, trying to give the hobbits as many breaks as possible. On their last attempt to cross the mountains, they had been thwarted by a raging snow storm and forced to go under the earth instead; this time, though the air was cold and the path icy, the weather stayed relatively calm, and their worst trouble was navigating the often treacherous trail. Several times, the humans dropped their things to carry the hobbits across wide gaps with a hundred-foot fall below. Merry and Pippin were hardy folk, but a mountain pass in the middle of the winter was no place for anyone, much less small hobbits who were already road-weary and tired of war and travel. Even Tes’s spirits were flagging, and she looked often to Strider and the elf for encouragement. They always seemed to know when she most needed a hand up or a bolstering word, and she came to rely on them more than she would have in other circumstances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gimli strode on ahead, unconcerned by his companions’ difficulty; he was too delighted at having found such a useful map and too excited at the prospect of uncovering an unknown mine and a rare, powerful metal. Whatever thoughts concerned the wizard, he kept them to himself and pressed onward in mostly stalwart silence. Legolas made himself available to Gandalf often, providing him with an arm of support whenever the old man stooped particularly low. Gandalf pressed the firstborn’s hand in mute thanks, grateful that someone was there with whom he could relate, however dimly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were aware that they were under constant observation; orcs slunk in and out of holes in the mountainside, staying respectfully out of reach of the well-armed group. The proximity of the foul creatures added to their growing sense of unease. In the middle of the second afternoon, they heard human voices shouting around a bend in the pass, and rushing forward, they encountered a ragged party of refugees being assailed by the enemy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Fellowship surged forward and surrounded the refugees in a protective circle, once again fighting off the goblins until none remained in their vicinity. Then, they turned and assessed the small group. They were a mixture of young and old men, dressed in rags, dirty, and underfed. Exhausted eyes dully observed the strange collection of warriors. Aragorn stepped forward and took the lead in talking to them, asking their destination and purpose for being in the mountains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A young fellow named Hagley spoke for the others. “We are from the village of Brindle in Dunland,” he said. “Two weeks ago, we were driven from our homes into the mountains by raiders from the south. The passes are difficult terrain and we have little strength between us. We’ve neither eaten nor slept in three straight days. The small number you see here was out hunting, but game is scarce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, then, and take some of our provisions. We have enough to feed you and ourselves too if we ration.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our women and children are waiting at a shelter we found in the side of the mountain. Let us take you there to rest and recover from your hard road.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn gave the Fellowship a questioning glance. They each nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that a reprieve would do them all good. Aragorn accepted Hagley’s proposition on their behalf, and they allowed the men to lead them to a hut that had been carved out of the side of the mountain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the hut sat a tattered group of villagers, mostly women and young children with a few elderly among them. There were close to twenty in all, and Aragorn looked all around him in distress. As a ruler, he had made it a priority to reach out to the outlying villages with aid and supplies in order to revitalize the most impoverished regions. These were exactly the people he would have worked with, and seeing how badly they had fared from the war with the south hurt his heart greatly. He moved among them, distributing meat and lembas bread and instructed the others of the Fellowship to do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf took aside a couple of expecting mothers and asked them gentle questions about their pregnancies. He left them with medicinal herbs and walked over to a small group of silent children, hoping to cheer them with some light-hearted story-telling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes, who had been wearing her hood over her head, pulled it down and ran a hand through her curls. A thin, dirty woman walked over to her carrying a steaming bowl. “Would you like some stew, young master?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes accepted with a small smile, deciding ruefully not to correct the woman, and traded her the stew for a few strips of jerky. She retreated to a corner of the little hideaway to sip it in privacy. The broth was thready, barely a gruel, but she knew it was all they had, and she blinked back stinging tears at the generosity of the offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hobbits were getting a lot of attention from the children, who had never seen adults as small as they, and soon they sat in a cozy little circle with Merry and Pippin trying to best one another with fantastical tales. Their tiredness seemed to fall away from them as they entertained the children. Legolas watched with a smile on his own face, and some of the sadness seemed to slip from his countenance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the younglings crept away from the circle to sit by Tes’s knee. She looked out of the corner of her eyes down at the little one, but did not say anything. The child scrutinized her with comical skepticism, then said, “You are a girl, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes laughed in spite of herself. “You saw right through me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brow puckered with suspicion, the child asked, “Can a girl carry a sword?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some girls can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how to cook as well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My nonny says that all girls must cook and clean and stay at home to tend the children while the boys hunt and fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, can I tell you what my nonny used to say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Single nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My nonny,” Tes said, bending down so that only the child could hear her whisper, “used to tell me that little girls and little boys can do whatever they want to, and that no one else gets to make that choice for them. Some little girls like to cook and clean, and others like to hunt and play. Same goes for little boys. And then there are some who like to do all these things, and other things, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have kids?” the child burst out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes laughed harder, delighted by the precociousness of the question. “No, but maybe someday. Why, are you looking for a new parent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She immediately regretted the question, realizing in a flash that she didn’t know if the child even had parents in these benighted circumstances. But the kid didn’t blink and instead shoved her with a giggle. “No, my nonny would never let me go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, kid, good,” Tes said with a small sigh. “Because I would have to think about it anyway. Now, go sit with your friends and let me finish my soup in peace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid left and rejoined the circle with the other children, giving Tes a cheerful backward glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn’s sharp ears had picked up the conversation, and he crossed his arms. “Did your nonny really say that?” he asked her, lifting an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strider, my man,” Tes exhaled, “I didn’t even know my nonny. But it’s what I would have wanted her to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He settled down next to her, clutching a bowl. “This is important to you then, the freedom of men and women to do as they please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beyond important. I wouldn’t be who I am if I had to follow someone else’s rules for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a careless shrug. “Whoever I want it to be. It’s definitely not a peasant - at least no one’s calling me that anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you are no peasant,” with a soft chuckle. “You are a… a lindamehtar.”</span> <sup>[5]</sup>
</p><p>
  <span>“A what? A ‘singing’ something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not really a word,” he admitted. “It would mean something like ‘singer-warrior’ if it existed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Singer-warrior,’” she repeated approvingly. “Lindamehtar. You know, I really, really like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the middle of the night, Legolas awoke them all with an urgent shout. “Aragorn! Gandalf! Quickly! Ungol!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes squinted into the darkness, trying to shake off her sleepiness. “‘Ungol?’” she asked the air in general.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strider gripped her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spiders!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><sup>[5]</sup>  From “linda-” which is a possible root meaning “to sing” or “to make music” and “mehtar” for “warrior.” YES I KNOW IT’S NOT A REAL WORD. Just let me have this. Source: elfdict.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Spiders!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gandalf roused the villagers with a white light that emanated from the tip of his staff in the small space. To Tes, it looked like a floodlight; the villagers grumbled as it blared in their eyes. Paying no heed, he quickly bustled them out of the hut, taking the children first, instructing them to move further north up the pass. On his way out, he snatched Merry and Pippin and herded them in front of him. “Hurry now,” he instructed them. “Remember Bilbo’s stories!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others covered their exit, drawing their weapons. Aragorn asked urgently, “Legolas, where are they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everywhere,” the elf said, his eyes huge with fear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bemused, Tes trailed them out of the hut, complaining, “What’s the big deal? They’re just spiders. Squish ‘em.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A clacking sound came out of the darkness, and two long, serrated legs appeared around a stone. Gleaming, multi-faceted eyes peered hungrily at them. The spider trilled, its call shooting a thrill of terror up Tes’s spine. She watched in horror as the full creature came into view - easily the size of a wolf, eight-legged, with sharp, grasping pincers. It pounced, meeting the point of her blade just in time. It fell back to the ground, wriggling and thrashing in its death throes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes turned slowly around to face the Fellowship, her eyes as big as the elf’s. He was staring upwards, and she followed his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a tremendous susurration, a sea of spiders crawled down the face of the mountain, their wicked eyes glowing as they seethed over and under one another in a great undulating mass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Run!” Strider shouted, and they retreated as fast as they could, slashing at the creatures as they dropped down from the heights and slicing off crooked limbs. The spiders screeched in pain, but still they kept coming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ahead, Gandalf lit the path and urged the humans to go as quickly as they could over the slippery stones. He pulled the hobbits to him and ordered them, “Go to the front and stay with the children! Keep them safe!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Gandalf!” “You can count on us!” Merry and Pippin shoved through the shuffling throng and took the lead at the head of the children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry; stick with us and you’ll be safe!” Pippin said reassuringly to their frightened faces. He grasped Merry’s arm and whispered, “Where are we going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Pip - just go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Above their heads, Legolas leapt from stone to stone, landing sure footedly on tenuous ledges that would have foiled a less agile being. He paused to examine the surface of a rocky outcropping, then called down, “Gandalf! This is more defensible!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone, climb!” the wizard shouted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes made it into their midst as the villagers began the difficult ascent, with much slipping and backtracking. She hoisted a child into Legolas’s waiting arms: “Here, Eggy.” The elf set down the child and reached for another. Together, Tes and Gandalf lifted the kids and the hobbits up to the elf, then accepted Legolas’s help in pulling them up as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn thought of a new strategy. “Draw them off!” he shouted to Gimli. They pulled off the path and went in a different direction from the others, making as much noise as possible to attract as many spiders as they could. They jumped up a natural staircase, fending off an onrush of the beasts. At the top, they stood back to back and hacked at the creatures until their ledge was covered in twitching remains; then as one, they leapt back down and charged into the swarm. From above, the archer loosed a hailstorm of arrows into the thick of the melee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gandalf sighted a dark, narrow entrance carved out of the rockface, and he pushed the group of terrified villagers into it. Tes, following in his wake, paused next to some oddly familiar barrels. She touched one, then pulled her fingers away and sniffed them. Her eyes widened as she recognized the scent, and she recalled the uneven stars on Gimli’s map. “Insurance!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She guided the villagers past the barrels, warning them, “Don’t touch these, just keep moving.” She caught Gandalf’s eye and cocked her head towards the stack. He frowned, uncomprehending, and then his eyes lit up and he smiled devilishly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he was thus distracted, a spider emerged from out of the dark behind him and sank its fangs directly into his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes screamed and threw a rock at it. Her aim was true, knocking the creature off the wizard’s shoulder to land jerking on the ground. She raced to Gandalf’s side to brace him as he fell forward, his eyes fluttering closed. “Mithrandir! Legolas, help! Help!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf dashed into the enclosing and took Gandalf under the other arm. “Fear not, their poison does not kill. He is only sleeping,” he assured her. Between them, they carried the unconscious wizard out the back of the shelter into a small tunnel. As they passed by the barrels, Tes looked up to a hole directly above them in the ceiling that opened up to the sky, filing away its location for later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the tunnel, spiders dropped down on them from above. Tes fended them off with her shield and struck out with her sword while Legolas dragged the wizard away. Pulled off balance by the extra weight, he tripped backwards just as a spider shot out at his face. As he swatted it aside, his bow slipped out of his fingers and clattered out of sight into the darkness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bereft of cover fire from above, Aragorn and Gimli redoubled their assault, attempting to push the spiders back through sheer force. They separated, the dwarf running down a lower path while the human took the upper. Gimli was soon buried in legions of the many-legged creatures, but his axe spun in a blur above his head, and their bites bounced off his armor. He bolted down the path, his progress marked by spiders flying high into the air while he burrowed through their ranks like a deadly gopher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn fought like a demon from the upper path, tossing spiders aside in a headlong rush. He reached a corner and careened around it, eyes flashing and sword held high. Then, he pulled up short. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rising in front of him was the biggest one he had ever seen - a massive, bloated, ugly creature taller than a man with mean, glinting red eyes, slobbering fangs, and churning legs. On its abdomen, a curved stinger ended in a fine point that glistened nastily with poison. The giant spider turned its hateful gaze on the man and issued a yowling challenge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aragorn saluted it, less to show the creature honor than to build up his own nerve. Then, he charged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merry and Pippin led the children and other villagers out of the other end of the short tunnel and into the starlight. They moved to the rear to help their friends, yelling at the group to keep moving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pippin darted back with an alarmed cry as Legolas and Tes dragged Gandalf’s prone form out of the tunnel. “Is he alright?” he gasped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He will be fine!” Legolas grunted. “Take his staff and keep going up the path!” He handed Pippin the wizard’s brown staff and tapped him forward with a gentle shove. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pippin stumbled forward, but several spiders materialized from nowhere to block his path. Without thinking, he swung the staff, which was many feet taller than he, in a wide circle to sweep them aside. He got most of them, but then one caught the tip in its forelegs and tugged it out of Pippin’s hands. It scuttled backwards and dragged the staff back up the side of the mountain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” moaned Pippin. “Treebeard grew that for Gandalf himself! He’ll kill me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you rather have the spiders eat you?” Legolas called. “Leave it, come on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merry heard Aragorn call out, and he spun around. He beheld the man locked in combat with a vicious, humongous spider on a switchback about thirty feet below them. Aragorn wheeled, his sword flashing high above his head while his hair whipped around his face. He thrust and parried, but for each stroke he lost a little more ground as the spider pushed him closer and closer to the edge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merry hollered, “Aragorn!!!” and slid down the side of the mountain on his bare feet to come to a rough landing on the same path a few yards away from the battle. He leapt onto the spider’s back and stabbed ferociously downwards, ignoring Pippin’s cries from far above. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sensing the small hobbit on its back, the spider lifted its stinger high and brought it down like a scorpion’s tail, but Merry rolled aside and fell onto the ground while it pierced thin air. Aragorn took advantage of the momentary distraction to drive his blade home into the spider’s exposed underbelly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beast gave a keening wail, then jabbed its stinger into Aragorn’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It enfolded the man almost tenderly in its eight-legged grasp as he slumped forward. Merry leapt up, screaming, and pummeled the dying spider with his blade, slicing each of its legs in turn and releasing its hold on the collapsing human. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tipping over the edge, it sent out a blast of sticky web in a desperate attempt to save itself. The webbing sailed into thin air, catching Aragorn in its clutches. From above, Legolas launched himself into the sky. He twisted in midair, grabbing the end of the webbing in one hand and bringing one of his blades down to cut it away from the spider with the other. With one clean stroke, the spider’s web was severed, and the beast tumbled out of sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still mid-flight, Legolas whipped the web around high over his head and flung it out to catch on the rockface where Tes was staring half in awe and half in terror. It stuck fast and was pulled taut by the elf and human’s combined weight. He stretched it out and rode the snap all the way to the upper shelf, coming to a sliding halt on his feet and catching Aragorn’s limp form with both arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes was breathless in amazement, but her delight turned to horror in the next instant. “Merry!” she cried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Legolas’s face turned white. The hobbit had still been riding on the spider when it had tilted over the edge into the abyss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, help!” a small voice yelped from below. The elf and human raced to the edge to look down and see poor Merry, pinned to the earth under some webbing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Legolas said something unsavory in elvish. “Thank the gods,” uttered Tes, and she leapt down to free him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gimli pounded up the switchbacks, throwing spiders to and fro with great swings of his axe. He met the group of villagers and Pippin coming from a different direction and pointed them down the path indicated by his map. If they could just gain a little more ground, they would be able to take advantage of one of Saruman’s “exit strategies.” He saw Legolas and Tes dragging their two unconscious friends along in the rear while Merry tried to render futile aid. The hobbit was too small to be of any real help, and he was still picking webbing out of his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve bought ourselves a few moments,” the dwarf reported, “but still the spiders come in great numbers.” Though short, he was strong enough to carry a human man on his back, so he took Aragorn from Tes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tes waited until the last of the group had turned the corner of the next switchback, then she broke off and ran back down the pathway. She stopped before a hole in the stony ground - the same hole she had seen earlier from below. She looked down through it, and there indeed were the barrels of gunpowder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In front of her, the spiders had regrouped and were surging forward en masse. Gimli and Legolas were going in the opposite direction to her, so they could see her expression as she squared off with the approaching mob. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face split into what she would have called a “shit-eating grin;” to Gimli, it just looked like the smirk of someone about to do something very, very stupid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her chest inflated, and she crowed:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>YOOOOOUUUUUUU SHALLLL NOOOT PAAAAAASSSSS!!!!!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her cry reverberated off the sides of the mountains, and the spiders skittered to a halt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holding one hand high in the air, she flicked her thumb. Above it, a tiny flame sprang to life. She flung the lighter into the hole and turned on her heel to sprint away, but in her haste, tripped and went sprawling just as the tunnel below erupted in a massive, fiery explosion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stone blasted outward in billowing clouds of smoke which enveloped the human and obscured their view of the opposite cliff’s face. From high above, a throbbing rumble turned into a roar, and an avalanche thundered down, obliterating the pathway and wiping away the entire brood of spiders in an onrush of snow. The tiny form of the human tumbled end over end and disappeared from view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>NO!!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Merry howled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The snow settled into a white, featureless field. She was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Interlude: Lúmësercë</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Long ago, mines ran far under the mountains, branching off in countless different directions and joining with older and deeper tunnels not made by the dwarves. Veins of gold, silver, and mithril spiralled through the bedrock, and caverns of many-colored jewels sparkled in the torchlight of the underground explorers. Further down than even these deposits, another vein twisted along the byways of the deep dark. The dwarves tapped it and tried to understand its nature, but the metal flummoxed them. Light danced around it, both repelled by and attracted to its kaleidoscopic depths. The pickaxes of the dwarves pried away whole segments, which fell away in irregular shapes, some smooth and others sharp. Unlike the other precious materials, these segments did not change shape even when treated in the hottest forges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unshapable, unusual, and unusable, the metal rested in the bottoms of carts to be transported eventually to the halls of dwarven kings higher in the ground while the other treasures of the earth were accorded a greater worth in the eyes of their finders. Crowns were smelted and jewels inlaid in the hilts of powerful swords, and still the metal sat forgotten beneath piles of more valuable discoveries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the dwarves ventured above ground and visited the lands of the firstborn children of Ilúvatar, they brought many of their treasures to trade and gift to their elven neighbors. Almost as an afterthought, they took along a few pieces of this rare yet non-precious metal and passed them to the elves. Though highly skilled in the blacksmith arts, the elves could not make anything out of the fragments, though still they kept them for admiration of their lustrous qualities. Some were handed on to the Silvan kindred of Lorien, who studied them in more detail and came up with a name: lúmësercë</span>
  <span>, or timesblood.</span> <sup>[6]</sup>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This strange gift of the dwarves remained in Lorien for millenia, and soon what little knowledge they had of its secrets was forgotten. Relations between the dwarves and the elves waxed and waned with the passage of time, and on a sunny afternoon on the outskirts of Lorien, two of the beings met to declare a new season of peace between the oft-warring peoples. As a sign of their concord, Randirion of the elves gave to Nufu of the dwarves some of the finest metalwork from their vaults, along with one piece of timesblood. Nufu bore the offering back to the halls of his people to display and enjoy. Little was made of the timesblood, and it rested unobtrusively on a shelf in a corner for many more years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nufu himself grew in prominence among his people, so much so that he was among the seven dwarves to be gifted the seven rings of power from Sauron himself, then known as Annatar. He bore the ring back to his palace and used it to increase his wealth a hundredfold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not think anything of the lúmësercë until one day when, quite by accident, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that it acquired a faint glow as he passed by. Curious, he stretched out his hand to pick up the metal, and as he did, the folds of reality split wide open around him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><sup>[6]</sup> Another made-up word, from “lúmë” for “time” and “sercë” for “blood.” Source: elfdict.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Music</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Outside of space and time, Gandalf drifted…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The many ages of his life unspooled before him, the heavy burdens he had carried easing from his weary shoulders, and he rested.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come back</span>
  </em>
  <span>, someone whispered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come back to the light. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not right now. Not yet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You are not finished. She is waiting for you in Lorien….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigantic paws padded softly on the surface of the snow. Out of the mist emerged a great four-legged beast, its head bent low as it snuffled the frozen field, searching. It left barely an imprint in its wake, walking sideways along the wall of the cliff as if gravity were a mere technicality. It had blue-silver fur, two small, pointed ears, massive jowls, and a proud, powerful chest, and from its hindquarters lifted a whiplike tail, upraised in eager anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tail began to swish slowly back and forth, then more quickly. The animal stopped and dug down into the snow, shoveling great drifts aside with each swipe of its mighty paws. It uncovered an arm and nudged it with its nose, then carefully gripped the sleeve in its teeth and tugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unconscious woman with thick curls emerged from the snowdrift. Her lips had turned purple, and she did not breathe. A gash on her forehead slowly leaked bright red blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The animal coiled around her. It was about the size of a small horse and easily encircled her whole body. It nuzzled her with a gentle lick and then draped its head on her chest. After a minute or so, she inhaled, coughing weakly. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths; the animal pulled around her more tightly until her breathing evened out and deepened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The great beast arose and, burying its head under her back, levered her onto its shoulders. It adjusted her until she was settled firmly, then set out across the snow. Though it moved perpendicular to the ground, its passenger did not stir or slip even an inch. It traversed great distances with each bound, galloping over and around stony obstacles as if they barely existed. Soon, it left the mountains altogether and descended into a gray plain, and then it passed into the groves of a yellow, sun-dappled forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn came to and blinked at the blurry sight of the elf bending over him, his expression grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” he tried to reassure him, his words slurring slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Legolas helped him sit up and supported him through rolling waves of nausea. He shut his eyes tightly and swallowed, willing his stomach to settle and his head to stop spinning. Spider stings always left behind a host of unpleasant side effects. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gimli was sitting on a low stone not far away, his helmet on the ground. His shoulders were slumped and his forehead rested in one hand. Next to him, the two hobbits held one another miserably, their eyes red from weeping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn frowned and glanced at Legolas in alarm. “Where are Tes and Gandalf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gandalf was also stung. He still sleeps, though I believe he will wake soon. Tes is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Legolas trailed off. His chin lifted and he gestured to the white wall of snow on the other side of the pass. Aragorn just shook his head, not understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was swept away,” Gimli filled in without looking up. “There was an explosion, then an avalanche, and she fell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is gone,” Legolas added tightly. “She took the spiders with her. It happened too quickly, Aragorn. There was no time to save her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ranger rose painfully to his feet. He stepped to the edge of the trail and looked down into the pass. Vapor from the recent avalanche swirled through the air, and nothing could be seen beyond a white field dotted here and there with black spider remains. “Not even the elf could climb down that,” Gimli said in despair. “And even if we could get down there, we would not know where to begin searching.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sadness bubbled up inside the man. He looked desperately at Legolas, but the forlorn expression in the elf’s eyes confirmed Gimli’s words. Aragorn shook his head in disbelief and stared out into the mist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pippin cleared his throat. “Now what?” he asked in a small voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ranger turned around to seek out the sixth member of their party. Gandalf lay slumbering on the ground where they had placed him, setting him well back from the edge. The wrinkles in his cheeks and forehead had smoothed, and he looked almost peaceful. Aragorn walked over to him and knelt by his side, taking up the wizard’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awaken, old friend,” the ranger implored gently. “We need you right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard’s brow furrowed, and he stirred. With a soft cough, his sapphire eyes flickered open and focused on Aragorn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All is not lost,” he whispered, squeezing the ranger’s fingers. “I heard a voice in my dreams bidding us go to Lorien. We will find her there, and many others as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lorien? It still stands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and its guardians still live within its borders, protecting it from outside evil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What of the mine? The metal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget the metal,” Gimli interjected bitterly. “We have already lost too much in folly pursuit of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To have come all this way for nothing…” Aragorn murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is hard,” Gandalf agreed, slowly sitting up with a grunt. “Yet I do not think that our foray into the mountains was entirely fruitless.” He nodded at a point beyond the ranger’s shoulder, to where the assembled villagers waited, talking among themselves and comforting their children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn smiled wanly. “We will take them through to Dunland and provide them with food and weapons, then take the low road through to Lorien.” He met Gandalf’s kind gaze. “All these long years, you have never led us astray. Forgive me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peace,” Gandalf replied. “We have many choices left ahead of us; we are not served by regretting the ones we have already made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes dreamed she was home, walking along a blacktop road between two stretches of marshland. The road had long since fallen into disrepair; tall weeds grew from cracks in its surface. In the distance rose a hill upon which sat a rocky cairn. The only sounds were the crunching of her footsteps and the rushing of the wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took deep breaths of the clean air, enjoying the feel of the wind and sunshine on her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slender person approached from the opposite direction and met her in the middle of the road. They stopped to converse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you leave?” asked the other. Soft brown eyes looked at her with compassion. “Your friends miss you, Tessa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one misses me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You underestimate your worth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not worth anything. I’m nobody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her friend walked on. Tes watched her until she had disappeared from view, and her heart ached with an unnameable sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Music wended its way into her dreams, rousing her gradually to a state of half-awareness. It was heartbreakingly beautiful, and she tried to hold onto it as long as she could, not wanting it to slip from her mind the way music so often did when she lay in the twilight space halfway between sleep and wakefulness. It was singing the elbereth, she realized, only now she could understand the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes closed, she smiled broadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time she came to, there was other music playing, and she again tried not to wake up too much. She didn’t want to be in a place where she could not hear the sweet melodies that wound through the air. Idly, she wondered if she would be able to remember it later. Maybe she could write it down… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories stirred, of spiders and explosions and snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright, yelling. Then, she clutched at her head, which throbbed painfully. Silver laughter came from somewhere off to the side. “Gently, now, Tenlyssa. That was no light blow you took to the head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cracked one eye slightly open and glanced in the speaker’s direction. Then, both eyes growing very wide, she stared openly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seated across from her was the most enchanting woman she had ever beheld. Crisp grey eyes looked out from a fair, peaceful face wreathed in golden curls that fell past her waist. A gossamer silver circlet sat on her brow, and her ears swept up into elegant points on each side of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf maiden laughed again, and Tes thought it was the most charming sound she had ever heard. “Our hounds rescued you and brought you to the shades of the forest of Lorien,” she said to the stunned human. “I myself saw you fall, and I could not allow you to perish in such a manner.” She leaned forward and pressed Tes back down into a soft pillow. “Rest now, Tenlyssa. There will be time for explanations later. You are safe here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Tes rasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave her a secretive, playful smile. “I am Galadriel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Galadriel,’” Tes repeated, savoring the word. As she fell back into sleep, she recalled hazily, “‘Galad’ is the word for ‘tree’...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music stayed whether she was waking or sleeping, Tes eventually realized. It permeated the very air of Lothlórien. The elves sang ethereal hymns to the Valar, belying the evil nature of the days that had befallen Arda. As she recovered from her injuries, which thanks to the healing ministrations of Galadriel and her attendants happened much more quickly than it would have otherwise, she spent longer and longer amounts of time strolling through the forest, listening deeply to the music as one might relish cool water after many days in a desert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she was not out walking, she sat at Galadriel’s feet in her private chambers and absorbed as much of her presence as she could, her green eyes glittering with joy at the very sound of the elf queen’s voice. Galadriel welcomed the human woman gladly and told her many stories from the ancient high days of Middle Earth, of the exploits of Eldar and humans, their triumphs and downfalls. Tes listened and committed all to memory, and she could not remember a time when she had been more happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Galadriel assured Tes that her companions were alright and would join her soon. Tes wasn’t certain how the elf knew, but she believed her wholeheartedly. In the meantime, she started to get a feel for the flow of the hymns, and then she began to sing along. Her voice blended perfectly with those of the elves, and she existed inside the vibrations of their shared harmonies, passing into a timeless trance as the music lifted her up and took her out of the physical world into a rainbow place filled with shimmering curtains of light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she sang, standing on the forest floor with her eyes closed and her face suffused with pure delight, Galadriel watched her from behind a pillar, and the queen drew in a quick breath of amazement. No human had ever melded their voice so seamlessly with those of elves in all her long memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes’s heart was full, and she did not realize that she was being observed. It was therefore a surprise to discover a small lute perched in the doorway of her room with the giver nowhere in sight, and she took it up with a small amount of trepidation. She didn’t want to impose, but she was greatly curious about what the lute would sound like when played. She strummed it tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So dulcet were its tones that all hesitation and restraint melted away, and she sat on the ground and picked out a pleasing refrain, an ostinato that repeated with ever-increasing layers of complexity. At the end of the third repetition, the melody rose and ended with a questioning cadence, which hung unanswered for a long moment. Then, she fell into a louder, more raucous theme, striking the strings with a driving rhythm. The very trees of the forest seemed to swell all around her, and from their glades came an answering counterpoint, dancing in and out of the main theme or soaring above it in perfect opposition. In another repeat, the lute alone played its theme with tender inflection; then, the countermelody came in balanced by soft tones from the strings; and then all came together in one joyous final refrain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From that moment on, Tes found herself fairly mobbed by elves. Themselves skilled in the musical arts, they nevertheless had not ever conceived of a sound like hers, and she enchanted them as much as they her. Tes had never been shy about sharing her musical ideas, and the elves proved to be blisteringly fast studies; with a very little coaxing, soon the trees of Lorien resounded with jaunty rhythms and lively melodies inspired by Tes’s but of the elves’ own devising. The hymns of praise took on an entirely new architecture, extolling the same virtues in fascinating new structures. The forest itself radiated in wonder at the new sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is how it was when Gandalf and the rest of the Fellowship entered Lorien, two weeks after their encounter with the brood of spiders in the mountains. They stood open-mouthed at the edge of the woods, listening in utter astonishment to the music that came spiralling from within. Aragorn and Legolas both felt their hearts leap in elated response, just as they had in Fangorn. They plunged ahead of the others, drawn irresistibly to the sound’s source, and skidded to a halt in a clearing where they </span>
  <span>beheld Tes, clad in elven raiment and directing a choir of a thousand voices.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Nufu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“It is lúmësercë,” said Galadriel, holding the relic up to the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lúmësercë,” Aragorn repeated, sounding out the unfamiliar word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf frowned; of all the elvish lore that he had studied, this was the least clear in his memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it mean?” Tes asked, not attempting the Sindarin word at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Timesblood,” translated Gandalf. “But how do you know?” he questioned the elf queen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because,” Galadriel said, and she pulled back a sheer curtain to reveal a shelf full of similar metallic items, all shaped differently, all luminous in the same peculiar way as the relic Tes had found. “We have many such deposits here in Lorien.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where do they come from?” asked Aragorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Galadriel closed her eyes; even for her, the recollection of the strange metal’s origins was dimmed by the long passage of millenia, and she had to search her mind very far back. “It was found by the dwarves long ago,” she began, and she told the assembled group the story of timesblood’s discovery, and how it had frustrated the efforts of dwarves and elves to fathom its secrets until they had given up and consigned it to a place of unimportance. “A regrettable oversight,” she concluded, “for now it seems to be a key factor in shaping the outcome of the War of the Ring and therefore the fate of Middle Earth’s past, present, and future.” She nodded slightly in Tes’s direction as she uttered the last word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is more,” she told them. “The relic’s activation is felt by Ringbearers - you know this,” she said to Gandalf. Frowning, the wizard nodded, subconsciously touching a finger on his left hand. “You could sense that something was different about Tenlyssa the moment you saw her,” Galadriel continued. “And when it activated in Orthanc, you could see into her mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could?” Tes snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Gandalf admitted, giving her a look of sheepish apology. “I did not tell you because I didn’t want to perturb you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consider me perturbed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That the relic is linked to the rings bears further consideration,” Galadriel went on as if the interruption had not happened. “It is entirely conceivable that its use explains the absence of the One Ring as well as the changes observed by Aragorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When it is active, it radiates an air of menace, as of evil magic,” Aragorn said slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That may be, but I do not believe the lúmësercë is either good or evil,” Galadriel answered. “Its user may be either, or it may be drawing on a sense of malice from yet another source. Did you not tell us that Arwen sensed that it was channeling power from somewhere else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but she could not say from where.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many things will become clear once that question is answered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do we do until then?” Tes asked. “I can’t just hang out in Lorien for the rest of my life. Not that it hasn’t been, well… psychedelically beyond amazing.” She grinned at the elf queen, who returned the smile. “As much as I like it here, there’s a war going on out there, and I may not want to get back to the future just now, but it would be comforting to know that there is a future to get back to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The relic will likely activate again,” Aragorn said. “We should be prepared for that eventuality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will certainly activate again, and soon,” Galadriel confirmed. Worry crossed Tes’s face, and the elf queen gave her a quick compassionate glance. “But before it does, there are yet other choices to make, one being whether and how to reinforce the armies of Gondor, which even now are losing ground on the field of battle as the forces of Mordor make a long, concerted push.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad is it?” Aragorn asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have lost almost all of their gains from three years’ hence, and they retreat into the hills to regroup and count their dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn gritted his teeth. “Then it’s not a question,” he ground out. “We must get there quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nay, son of Arathorn,” Gandalf said suddenly, and all eyes turned to him. “You must remain in Lorien to assist Tes when the relic activates again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remain in Lorien -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not staying here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn and Tes objected simultaneously, and Gandalf held up a hand for silence. He drew himself up sternly, and the room seemed to shrink around him. “The battle for Gondor takes place on two fronts, one in the ranges north of the city, and the other here in the bowers of Lothlórien. It remains to be seen which will be the more difficult struggle, but regardless, you are both needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He spoke the last word with such strict finality that they felt it rumble lightly in the walls and floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gandalf is correct,” Galadriel said more quietly, but with no less authority. “The relic will present more than enough of a challenge, and there is no one else to meet it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of challenge?” Tes asked softly. She much preferred to fight orcs than deal with the metaphysical contortions of a mysterious piece of magic metal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will be tested. When the relic activates again, it will pull you into its world, and you may not have the means to return to this one. You will need to be both cunning and wise to overcome its thrall. If you are successful, it may be that all returns to the way it was, and none of us recall this ever happened. If you fail, I fear that this world will fall into shadow, with or without the One Ring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli agreed to go to Gondor to reinforce its armies. Merry and Pippin were given the choice to go with them or stay in Lorien; Pippin elected to ride into battle, and Merry decided to stay and assist Tes and Aragorn. He wasn’t sure how he could help, but many times the aid of hobbits had proven inexplicably indispensable to turning the tide of great struggles, and his companions affirmed his choice without question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf and Aragorn shared a private moment before parting; they argued briefly in low, sharp tones before Aragorn bowed his head and accepted something that the wizard passed into his palm. Then, Gandalf enfolded the ranger in a long, tight embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farewell, son of Arathorn,” he whispered. “I hope we meet again under better circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Gandalf. May the Valar protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the ranger bid farewell to Legolas and Gimli, embracing each in turn. He held the elf closely, their foreheads meeting. Pippin, he lifted off the ground and kissed on top of his head. Merry and Pippin each shared a tearful goodbye, and then they turned to Tes, who was watching quietly off to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t cry at goodbyes,” she said in a low voice, “but please don’t take that for lack of feeling. I’ll miss each of you dearly.” She gave each a quick hug, pausing in front of Gandalf to meet his eyes. “I do not understand what blessing of the gods led me to this place and time,” she said, “but regardless of what happens next, I will never forget it. Or you. And I will pass on everything I have learned, if I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you will. And if I have any skill at all in foresight, I predict your music will be heard once more throughout all of Arda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a warm smile. “It already is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four who were departing climbed on the backs of the blue hounds of Lorien, who bayed once at the sky and then launched into motion, disappearing swiftly out of sight towards the south and war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Galadriel had predicted, the relic activated soon after their departure. This time, it shot up into the air with supernatural fury and spun so rapidly that its shape was distorted and blurred. It threw off beams of piercing white light and gave off searing heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had stored it in a stone chamber - one of the only non-wooden structures in Lorien - for this very reason. Upon observing its activation, sentries alerted Aragorn and Merry, who ran to Tes’s side. She marked their approach, and then with an all-too-familiar surge of terror observed their figures transform to glass and grow motionless. The color leached from the beautiful forest all around her, and the trees dissolved into dust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found herself standing once more on the side of Mount Doom, looking across the plain at the tower of Barad-dûr and the great Eye frozen in its regard of the Black Gate. Then, her environment shifted to a wide and deep cavern under the earth. A bottomless chasm stood a few feet away, and cruel stalagmites lifted from the ground in a wide circle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the center of the circle, a dwarf lord stood with his hand outstretched, a channel of power going from a ring on his finger into a small piece of metal suspended in the air. The dwarf’s eyes were lidded, all his concentration focused on the metal, which spun and gave off radiant beams of light and heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes raced forward. “Stop what you’re doing!” she shouted, and her voice echoed off the walls of the cave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dwarf’s head jerked up in angry shock, and he dropped his hand. The relic fell out of the air and landed in the dirt, still jumping and throbbing with energy. Tes came to a halt in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you the one who’s been using the relic all this time?” she demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” the dwarf said tonelessly, his eyes gleaming dangerously from underneath rusted-brown, scraggly eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am Nufu.” The dwarf lord drew himself up proudly. “I touched the timesblood and saw the destruction of the One Ring. I could not allow that to happen, so I reached out through time to take it. I failed the first few attempts, but I’ve gotten better. I have the timesblood under my total control now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where,” Tes said, taking a step forward, “is the One Ring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is here,” Nufu said, spreading his arms wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in this cavern?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in my palace. I have it, and I keep it. It’s mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen.” Tes took another step forward. “I don’t know much about the Ring, but I can pretty much guarantee you that it is not yours. It kind of seems to me that once it takes you, you belong to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense. I control it. It obeys my will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nufu,” another step, “where are we right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are in my palace, stupid human. Are you blind as well as foolish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not in your palace. We are in a cavern underground. And I am willing to bet,” as a bone-rattling roar reverberated through the air, “that isn’t one of your servants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fire belched upward from the crack in the ground, and Tes felt its heat blast her face. “Look, Nufu,” she yelled, “you are not seeing things clearly. You need to put the Ring back and stop using the relic! You are literally destroying all of time right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want the Ring for yourself!” the dwarf spat. “You’re just jealous!” He pulled an axe from its holster on his back and charged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bite me!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes deflected the axe with her shield, its force jarring her arm all the way up to her shoulder, and she drew her sword. She sensed that she was badly outmatched, but there was no one else. She traded a few jabs with the dwarf, trying to put space between them to give herself more room to maneuver. He hurtled through the air at her, the axe raised high over his head, his face distorted in a ghoulish howl of rage. Ducking, she rolled out of the way and came up next to the relic on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed it and stuffed it, still vibrating, into a bag on her belt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dwarf hit dirt and whirled around, then charged her again. She hacked at him, losing ground with each stroke. Every time the axe struck her shield, she felt as if her arm would fall off. She was quickly growing tired, and Nufu pressed his advantage, seeing a quick end to the fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another roar burst from the depths of the earth, turning the air into quivering jelly. Both combatants fell to the ground from its force. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes was quicker to recover. She gained her feet and lurched forward, picking up the dwarf, armor and all, by his axe. He did not relinquish his grip but dangled from the handle, mouth frothing. He kicked out, catching her in the abdomen. She cried out and fell, and he swung the axe high. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It threw sparks off the surface of her shield. She surged upwards, catching him off guard, and shoved him savagely backward to the lip of the chasm. For a breathless instant, he teetered on the edge, his arms pumping the air, and then he fell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He landed in the jaws of the dragon as it rose from the depths. With one snap, it devoured him and his ring whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragon swiveled its giant head up to glare at her through one slitted reptilian eye. It hissed and blew smoke from its nostrils, then roared a third time. Tes doubled over, clutching her ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragon would suffer no intruders in its cavern. It leapt into the air, its wings thrashing, and with its scorching breath turned the interior of the cave into an inferno. The last thing Tes saw was a wall of fire bearing down on her before it swallowed her completely.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Ring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tes’s eyes widened in a panic as they ran up to her; she drew in a long, labored breath, and her skin turned ashen grey. She stiffened and toppled backward. Aragorn caught her in his arms and transferred her gently to the earth. She lay cold and still, staring at the sky with a fixed, frightened visage. He ran his hand through her curls, willing some of the physical contact to reach her in her altered state. Merry caressed her arm in vain comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They waited tensely for several minutes; Tes’s aspect did not change, and they could hear screeching from the stone chamber where the relic spun in its violent activation. Then, imperceptible at first but growing stronger every second, a tremor started to shake the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn opened his hand and looked at the object that Gandalf had deposited there. His brow furrowed as he fought a brief, losing struggle with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merry caught sight of the object, and he gasped. “Aragorn… is that…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held it up to the light. “Narya, the Ring of Fire,” he said slowly and distinctly. The red ruby fixed in the center of the ring glinted as he slowly turned it. He took a very deep breath, then slid it onto his finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, nothing happened. Merry frowned. “Isn’t it supposed to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He broke off. Aragorn’s eyes closed, and he bent his head in concentration. He laid a hand on either side of Tes’s frozen face, and a white aura glowed in his grasp. Before Merry’s astonished eyes, a diadem of flame formed around his head, a brilliant gemstone inlaid in the center. A robe of royal purple cascaded down his shoulders and fell around the two humans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes didn’t move, but a flash of color flared in her skin. Merry leaned forward hopefully and gripped her hand, feeling it warm a little. “Aragorn, what are you doing?” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trying to reach her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tes turned all around. She was surrounded by empty blackness, as though a thick, heavy curtain had fallen over her. She felt her face, and her fingers encountered silken fabric; she was wearing a veil. Reaching for her weapons, she found none, merely a thick robe that cascaded to her feet. Her hand clenched the relic, gleaming and cold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where am I?” she asked, and her voice seemed to stretch out candyfloss into eternity. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She heard an onrushing of wind, and before her eyes flickered images of familiar scenes. The halls of Minas Tirith - Gondor’s camps - the Forest of Fangorn / Orthanc/Lorien. Spiders run up to her and vanish in smoke/faces of friends rushing past </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nofeeling descending to the ruin of her old campsite - except new/occupied by soldiers Gondor. Jacoby crouches by the entrance, shooting arrows into the forest/Legolas leaping across the roof Pippin Gimli running Gandalf bestride houndblue hurtles crying out chargecommand     these five five fifififififvvvvvvveeeee disappear </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wounded soldiers limp away in orcstorm faces touching the surfaces marble    hands bloodied with tides of battle rise and fall      and dead   warriors bodies pile fieldmeat</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The view shimmered again, and she saw herself sitting cross-legged in the abandoned ruin, a handcrafted flute on her lips as she played a sweet, sad melody.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She walked along the forest floor until she met herself, observing her own flushed face and angry, defensive eyes. She conversed as though in a dream, enticing the other to compose an elegy to honor the dead who had fallen in this ruin’s defense. She glided away, moving ever onward, and as she walked she fingered the relic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A noise slight her startlesher, and turning/dropping therelicreliccccrelic </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her contact with it severed, and she faded away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was alone on a stage in a darkened auditorium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A single spotlight shone its bright beam in a circle in the center of the wooden floor. Recessed into gloom, instruments and sound equipment were barely visible: microphone stands, a drum kit, her guitar resting in its stand. She puzzled over them, trying to remember when she had seen them last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A black padded stool stood in a pool of shadow; something about it caught and held her attention. The spotlight swung around with a creak to illuminate it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead center on the seat sat a small golden ring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It glinted cleanly in the light, a smooth, perfect circle. It looked comely, inviting. It wanted her to wear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else around. No one would see. No one would know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached out her hand to it, then hesitated, perplexed by a distant foreboding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>sang</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music was a thousand times more beautiful than that of the elves. Hearing it, tears sprang to her eyes, and she covered her mouth with a gasp of awe. It sang of joyous reunions, raucous concerts, inspired fans. It sang of loving arms drawing her close, accepting her and praising her even for her flaws. It sang of a future when she might be able to think and feel freely, unfettered by convention and fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sang of Darion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face flashed before her, his hateful eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You made this house a living hell. You always let me know I wasn’t good enough for you. Now you know how I coped with staying with you for so many years.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you want me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. I don’t want you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am nothing. I’m nobody. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>All that could change. You could have him again. You could have anyone you want. You could be loved and adored and wanted and no one would ever, ever reject you again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just put it on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a rush of desire, she grabbed it. She felt its weight as it rested coolly in her hand, slipping sizes so that she could easily slide it on her finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tenlyssa! Don’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head snapped up, and she spun around. Standing center stage, a familiar-looking man reached out for her, his face desperate. He was wreathed in flame; it danced around him and licked hungrily at his clothes. The light of the fire was reflected in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “Don’t,” he pleaded again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t think clearly. She looked back down at the ring, trying to focus her blurring vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want it. It came to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it didn’t. It ensnared you. It promises your heart’s desire, but it is an empty promise. It will betray you in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt stupid. Her thoughts ran slowly, sluggishly. She distrusted what he was saying, but she also distrusted her own heart. She didn’t know who to listen to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An agonized scream cut faintly through her confusion. The man’s appearance shimmered, and for a second she saw him being immolated in fire. Then, he reappeared as he had before, with the flames circling him but not consuming him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am your friend Strider.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you burning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because humans are fragile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw on his finger a red jewel, and suddenly she knew him and understood what he had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Strider! Aragorn! Take it off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped the ring, not noticing as it fell with a heavy </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the floor of the stage. She ran to the burning man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is too late for me,” he told her, smiling sadly. “Once a human puts on a ring of power, it claims him forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll become a wraith!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Why didn’t Mithrandir come himself? Why did you do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gandalf could not have reached you.” Aragorn gently lifted her chin. “Only another human could. It is why he left and I stayed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She began to cry. “Then this is all my fault. I brought you to this. I could have saved the world, and instead I killed my friend and ruined the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you didn’t.” He looked her directly in the eye. “You didn’t put it on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” she sobbed, “how do I destroy it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you will have to. Tes -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrenched away from her, the flames drawing closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a special resistance to it now,” he gasped. “All you have to do is stay here a little longer. Do not put it on. This place you are in will not last forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dissolved in a pillar of flame that winked out, leaving her alone on the stage with the Ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have a special resistance to it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Another memory flashed before her - of dragon’s breath, and a wall of fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she said aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked down her nose at the Ring, contempt crystallizing like dew becoming frost as its song descended into a harsh, spiraling, discordant caterwaul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You abusive, cruel, manipulative little shit,” she snarled. “Rings of Power cannot tempt the dead. And I might be stuck halfway between death and life, but I know the damn difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans and stomped past it. She sat on the stool in the center of the spotlight, crossed her legs, and faced the empty auditorium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chill, little dude,” she said to the Ring clamoring in frustrated fury on the stage floor. “We have a long eternity to wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The royal robe withered, and the flaming diadem absorbed into his skin, smoldering it like embers. Aragorn’s pupils dilated until they entirely filled his eyes. He rocked back on his heels, lips pulled back in a feral sneer. Merry staggered back, horrified, not recognizing his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aragorn whipped around and grabbed the hobbit, slamming him to the ground and drawing his dagger. He placed it on Merry’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merry choked and cried, “Aragorn, you aren’t yourself! It’s the ring that’s making you do this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man pressed the dagger down, drawing a tiny bead of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aragorn! It’s me, Merry! Stop!” Frantic, the hobbit grabbed his finger and yanked off Narya, then threw it aside to tumble into the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The darkness in the ranger’s eyes peeled back, and he returned to himself with a start. “Merry!” he sobbed. He gathered the hobbit in a tight embrace, shaking like a leaf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merry rubbed his back, comforting him as he would a weeping child. “It’s alright, Aragorn. I understand. It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thousands of years ago, in a dark cavern under the ground, a human woman turned to ash, and the piece of metal in her pocket finally melted in the heat of the dragon’s fire into an oily, shapeless puddle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ring reappeared in Gollum’s grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time unstuck.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Messenger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>So yeah, it’s a fire<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a goddamn blaze in the dark<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>And you started it<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You started it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~”Ivy”, Taylor Swift</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ground heaved upward and the floor of the stage cracked in two, flinging Tes into the air. The auditorium fell away. Her vision spun and she hung suspended in a white space, turning slowly. It felt as if reality itself were taking a deep, preparatory breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gravity returned, and she landed in a heap on a wide, dusty plain under a sulfurous sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dark shapes flitted past, running in terror from some unseen menace. She stood up, unmolested by the fleeing creatures, which angled around her in a wide berth and flowed outwards and away into the distance. Some gave out the peculiar grunting squeals of orcs and goblins, while other massive shapes growled in deeper tones as they lumbered past. Not one of them touched her though they streamed forth in great numbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A great cracking roar drew her eyes to the horizon, where a black mountain broke open and spewed sheets of lava high into the sky. The earth around it disintegrated, rifts hoving open for miles in all directions and stone shattering as it broke open upon the surging surface of the earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the plain before the mountain, a tiny army stood victorious on the flat top of a cliff. A navy blue standard emblazoned with a white tree fluttered high in the gale blasting outward from the realm of the dark mountain. All eyes were turned to the mountain, and great eagles leapt upward from the ground, soaring into the heat of the eruption. A blazing white figure rode astride one of the eagles, bent on diving into the heart of the tumult to rescue two diminutive, heroic travelers caught helpless in the throes of a dying landscape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes blinked, her eyes watering in the cutting wind. She strained to see where the eagles had gone, but they vanished from sight. The army waiting on the plain seemed to have one mind, holding its breath and hoping against hope for some sign of the huge raptors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long, breathless moments passed. Finally, a pair of wings emerged from the billowing clouds of smoke and ash, and a great cheer went up from the assembled forces. More wings appeared, beating ceaselessly and bearing the flight of eagles far overhead. They passed over the army and bore down on Tes’s position, moving more quickly than the fastest dirigible. She craned her neck to follow them as they sailed overhead, two carrying small dangling figures and a third bearing a white rider. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rider looked down at her for an instant, and she caught a glimpse of sapphire eyes. Then, he moved on and receded into the sky westward toward Minas Tirith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unusual sight on the ground below caught Gandalf’s eye. He listed to the side to get a closer look, forcing his mount to roll slightly to maintain their shared balance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were the last of the fleeing hordes, galloping ant-like away from Mordor to perish dark deaths in the wilds; for these, he cared little. But standing out from the tan of the soil was an entirely unexpected shock of curly, bright red hair. It was attached to a lithe figure wearing a silken silver dress that flowed outward in graceful waves. Two large emerald eyes in a freckled face looked up at him as he glided overhead, tracking his progress across the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fastened to the shoulder of the dress, Gandalf’s sharp gaze spotted a distinctive brooch shaped in the unmistakable pattern of a golden leaf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eagle rushed onward, and the figure dwindled into the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gandalf patted the neck of his mount and murmured a soft word, asking a favor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eagle wheeled and came back, landing a short distance away, and the wizard held out his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like a ride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes and Mithrandir reclined in two luxuriously comfortable chairs in an anteroom of the palace. Sunlight shone brightly in through a window as they talked, drinking warm tea from two thick blue mugs. Steam curled into the air, filling the room with a sweet, herbal fragrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, if you don’t remember any of what I just told you,” Tes asked, brow furrowed, “how come you picked me up from the plains of Dagorlad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “When one wins a decisive victory over a Dark Lord and then encounters an intriguing person wearing the leaves of Lorien in the wasteland beyond the battle, one does not waste a lot of time asking who she is or how she got there. When I beheld you, I thought you were a good omen sent to herald our triumph. I see now that you are more than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Mithrandir, that’s very flattering, but not exactly accurate. I didn’t end up doing very much in the end, and a lot of people got hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a timeline that was then erased because of your actions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but it still </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Aragorn still put on your ring, the battle in the mountains by the White City still took place, and those soldiers still died. Just because everything is now locked in some inaccessible time loop doesn’t mean it’s not there. People still got killed, and I still remember their sacrifices. And, not for nothing, but I got burned to a crisp by a big red dragon. I’m still not sure how I got out of that one; I genuinely thought that was it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is very complicated, but I think it’s possible that your entanglement with the relic is what saved you. For a little while there, you were stopped if you will, suspended in a twilight state between dying and living. It may be that the Valar took mercy on you and chose to send you back to Arda for a second chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I fully believe in the Valar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean to tell me, after all you have seen and experienced, that you still doubt their immanence?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… wouldn’t doubt it so much if they were physically here. You know, in front of me, like you are, so that I could see them and talk to them.</span> <sup>[7]</sup>
  <span> It’s all very metaphysical, Mithrandir. People from my time don’t do very well with intangibles. We don’t know how to address them. Everything in my era has a buzzword - ‘toxic masculinity.’ ‘Feeling seen.’ ‘Valar’ is not a buzzword so much as a philosophical construct. How am I supposed to compartmentalize that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are certain realities that cannot be compartmentalized, Tenlyssa. Do you wish to comprehend everything all at once? Where is the wonder, the awe in a life devoid of mystery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I have just been schooled to mistrust mystery. See, evil doesn’t work the same way in the future as it does now. Our evils aren’t external so much as they are internal - jealousy, fear, the desire to dominate. Feeling unimportant or ashamed of your own existence. It’s amazing how that can fetter the creative spirit. Arrows and armor and swords are the only sane response to a world teeming with orcs and unnamed things. We don’t have those things in the future, but the darknesses that we do face lurk just on the edges of our nightmares. It’s hard to trust dreams when they have the potential to contain so many harmful things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps these ‘buzzwords’ you mention so off-handedly are the arrows and armor of your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. I guess I never really looked at it that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is something else that I wanted to ask you about. While you were under the influence of the relic, you said that you saw yourself. What was that like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was very weird. It was like I was reliving events that had happened before, but from the other side. That’s also when cause and effect get kind of jumbled up; I think I asked myself to compose an elegy. Oh, and I definitely remember that I dropped the relic. Probably for myself to find later. Wait - are you saying I did all this to </span>
  <em>
    <span>myself</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As inconceivable as it may seem, that does seem to be what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is the most fatalistic, most nihilistic -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>comfort.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh? How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hrmph. Well, are you likely to do it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no! One trip to the distant past is enough for a lifetime, thank you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case, be content. You are one of the fortunate few of us who have been handed the reins to their own destiny; take that for what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wish I knew what to do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That again is something else I wish to discuss. The lady of Lorien desires your presence at your earliest convenience, after the coronation of course, and I think I know what Galadriel wants to ask of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Galadriel wants to see me? But how does she know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, the telepathy thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would not put such a reductive label on it as ‘telepathy.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s what it is.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not that simple!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, whatever. Anyway, of course I’ll go to her. It’s not even a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. While you were here, you learned much of the history of Middle Earth, a history that in your time is all but completely lost. You have an unprecedented opportunity to change that - to revitalize your culture’s understanding of its own forgotten past. You can give your home back its soul, if you wish. She wishes to hear some of this music you have spoken of, and to gift you with some items. Writings and the like. You can use your influence when you return home to spread them to your people. You can say you found them in the wilds, and you would not be stretching the truth very far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be my honor to do this. The past is so much more amazing than anyone can even guess; even without the writings, I would not be able to restrain myself from sharing what I learned here. And, do you know there is a whole intervening period of twenty seven hundred years between then and now about which almost nothing is known? What happened to the unnamed things? Where did the dwarves and hobbits go? There’s an entire ring of satellites just floating in orbit around Arda, unable to breach the upper barrier to get to the stars - there has got to be a reason for that. We don’t live in a snowglobe for no reason. Mithrandir,” said with a wistful sigh, “I wish I had three times as many lifetimes to find out the answers to all the questions I now have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of lifetimes. May I ask a personal question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How old are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m 43. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you look 20, and I think I might know the reason. Have you ever heard the tale of Beren and Lúthien?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in very great detail. Something about Silmar jewels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he was finished telling the story, she gaped at him. “Are you saying I’m descended from the line of Númenor? I have elvish blood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it might even go beyond that. The line of Númenor is almost spent, but the upcoming union between King Elessar and Lady Arwen Undómiel is expected to renew it. You, Tenlyssa Lindamehtar, are possibly a direct descendant of that line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strider is my </span>
  <em>
    <span>ancestor</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That may also explain why you were drawn so strongly to him at the beginning of your journey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe it. That’s just beyond wild. Strider is my ancestor… who would have guessed…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And in a few days, you will witness your ancestor’s coronation and the beginning of, if your accounting is to be relied upon, the most peaceful and successful reign in the history of Middle Earth. A reign which you, despite your efforts to assert the contrary, helped bring about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>White petals drifted on the breeze in the plaza the day of Aragorn’s coronation. Gandalf the White placed the crown on the king’s head, and when he turned to face the crowds, a cry of acclamation went up. There were so many familiar, well-loved faces among the throng - Faramir, Éowyn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam, and many, many others. Lord Elrond approached and Lady Arwen emerged from behind a silken banner, and all the rest fell away as if they did not exist. What was an extra pair of merry green eyes or head of thick red curls amidst all the revelers? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the intervening three years, Tes journeyed all across Middle Earth. She marveled at how different the experience was to the dangerous expedition she and Strider had embarked on in the twilight realm of the timesblood. Arda bloomed in jubilant celebration of its freedom, having won a respite from darkness and been given another chance at light and happiness. She visited Fangorn Forest, where she was accorded the title of Maid of Fangorn for the joy that her music brought the trees and their ancient keepers; Rohan, the Lonely Mountain, Rivendell, even Bree and the Shire, and wherever she went, she played. The music of the Maid of Fangorn soon became almost as well-known as that of the most acclaimed elven masters; and in the meantime, she wrote down every song she learned, transcribed every melody. Dwarven ballads, elven requiems, even the drinking songs of the hobbits made it into her records, written in precise script in a journal that she always kept with her, even when she slept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She visited Lorien first, though, making her way there on the second day of the reign of King Elessar. Galadriel met her on the boundaries carrying in her arms a elven harp so elegant and lovely that Tes cried tears of joy at the sight of it. It sounded like the burbling of clear water in a mountain spring, and its honey tones soon filled the groves of Lorien and sounded ceaselessly from its branches. The elves responded to music with music; for many days, the forest rang with unrestrained tones both ethereal and earthy. Tes incorporated both styles indiscriminately into her music, as well as many others. Elves flocked from far and wide to hear and join in; the nights were filled with the most riotous celebration, and when Tes left, she heard the music behind her long after the sight of the forest receded past her vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She traveled, and wherever she went she did not lack for welcome, food, or lodging. Despite her love of Lorien and Fangorn, she would later recall her time in the Shire with the most affection. She entered the boundaries of the land of hobbits shortly after moonrise one sweet summer eve, playing and singing as she walked along. The hobbits had heard of her coming and ran out from their homes to greet her, waving silken ribbons as their hairy feet slapped along muddy pathways. She played with them late into the night, trading jokes and ribald stories with the old ones and giving out little painted flutes to the youngest. Merry and Pippin were there, although they had no recollection of their shared adventures; Gandalf had elected not to tell them, reasoning that one tumultuous War of the Ring was enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two others also sat at her feet to enjoy her music: Frodo the Ringbearer and Samwise Gamgee, his faithful gardener. To these Tes dedicated her most reverent refrain, a theme that encompassed sorrow and gladness in such tender simplicity that it did not fail to touch the hearts of even the most recalcitrant listeners. For days afterward, laughter and glee were the currency of the Shire, and even the Ringbearer felt his troubles lift away to fade unnoticed in the recesses of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time eventually recalled all to itself, and she felt the tug of reality reasserting itself more and more every day. She brought her tour of Middle Earth to a close, regretting all that she had not been able to see and celebrating all that she had, and returned to Minas Tirith. Mithrandir had told her to expect this; she would not remain in the deep past forever. In preparation for this, Galadriel and Elrond had bid her take some of their most sacred texts, and Gandalf promised that she would find others upon her return to the ruins in the future. “You will know it when you see it,” he assured her. The guardians of the past ensured that the future would be restored to its own history, and Tes was pleased to play the part of the messenger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thus it was that on one mild day in the city of Minas Tirith, Tenlyssa Lindamehtar walked the halls of a peaceful palace that she had once unintentionally thrown into disarray. In a suede knapsack at her hip, she carried several tomes with words and artwork to bring to her people. Among these, her favorite was a rich artistic rendering of the most beloved creation myth of the Eldar: the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ainulindalë</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She also carried some basic survival necessities, knowing that she would need them when she got back because she would be returning to the same ruins in the middle of nowhere that she had departed. Slung on her back was the harp of Lorien, a treasure that she would cherish for the rest of her days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king stood in his private study, gazing thoughtfully out the window at the broken silhouette of a distant mountain range, hands clasped behind his back. A light footfall sounded outside his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tes pushed the door open, her strong, graceful hands resting on the handle. “My lord?” she said. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to say…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trailed off, at a loss as to how to convey the depth of love and sadness she was feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what do I owe the honor of this visit from such an auspicious guest?” Aragorn asked, recognizing her instantly, his eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure. “Surely the Maid of Fangorn is busy with many obligations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go,” Tes said in a low voice. “It’s time. I just wanted to tell you goodbye. You probably won’t ever know what you meant to me, but there are no words. No words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she spoke, a radiant light fell over her, filling the room with its soft glow. Aragorn stepped back, nonplussed, and a strange peace came over both of them. Tes knelt and kissed his ring, crying warm tears at last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An odd look crossed the king’s face as she bent over his hand. He gave an abrupt cry and knelt alongside, taking her face in his hands. “Tes?” he whispered, recollection kindling in his heart. In a rush, the events of their shared adventure returned to him in full, vivid detail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled with pure joy at the warm familiarity in his tone just as the light overcame her, whisking her away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My dear Frodo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know you are close to finishing your accounting of the Lord of the Rings, and I look forward to its arrival here in Minas Tirith’s archives when it is complete. Some new information has just come to light regarding the events of that time, and while it does not alter the main body, I believe it belongs in the tale in some form. If I may be so bold, I would like to suggest that the following be added after the story’s conclusion:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Addendum…</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><sup>[7]</sup> Oh, the irony.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Yes, I got your letter, yes, I’m doin’ better<br/></em> <em>It cut deep to know ya, right to the bone</em><br/><em> Yes I got your letter, yes, I’m doin’ better<br/>I know that it’s over, I don’t need your closure</em></p><p>
  <em> ~”Closure”, Taylor Swift </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The following is reprinted with permission from the Eriador Evening Post </em>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Famous singer-songwriter Lyssa Starr released her first album yesterday following a difficult breakup with fellow musician Darion Seventh. The album, titled <em> Lindamehtar </em>, contains the hit single “Elbereth,” already a best-seller that has been at the top of the charts for several weeks. </p>
  <p>Ms. Starr, byname of Tenlyssa Contar, disappeared for three months on a “sabbatical” in the woods after what neighbors described as an “altercation” between her and Seventh. </p>
  <p>Fans who are familiar with the pop star’s free-spirited tendency to take unannounced vacations for indeterminate lengths of time nevertheless sent her family many concerned messages. Complicating matters, neighbors heard the couple fighting the night she disappeared and called the police when Ms. Starr did not show up for a scheduled public appearance the next day. Mr. Seventh was detained and questioned but ultimately released due to footage from the house’s security tapes showing that Ms. Starr left of her own free will. Searches of the surrounding forest areas did not turn up any signs of where she went, and Mr. Seventh remained under investigation until Ms. Starr returned. </p>
  <p>“Darion didn’t have anything to do with my decision to leave,” said the 44-year old pop star in an interview, effectively exonerating him. “That was my choice, although in hindsight I do regret not telling anyone where I was going. I was hurting, you know? I needed to get away to get my head straight.”</p>
  <p>Getting her head straight wasn’t the only byproduct of her forest adventure; when she returned, she brought with her several texts and artifacts that she had evidently found in ruins outside of the White City. She claims to have stumbled on them by accident and brought them back to have them authenticated by historical and religious experts.</p>
  <p>Since then, her discoveries have rocked the internet, sending forums and official historical society websites into a turmoil. The full impact of these texts has yet to be determined, as experts are still unpacking their contents, and many have already said that it might be years before the true value of the find is known. </p>
  <p>In the meantime, Ms. Starr is back to producing music, and her new album <em> Lindamehtar </em> represents an interesting break from tradition. The music’s style definitely incorporates some old favorite devices that die hard fans will recognize, but there is a freshness to the sound caused largely by the addition of the harp to her ensemble. The leading track, “Elbereth,” is currently a best-selling single and is likely to stay at the top of the charts for several weeks.</p>
  <p>When asked if her breakup was a source of inspiration for her new style, Ms. Starr gave a cryptic answer. “Not every sorrow is an obligation,” she said. “There are some we’re stuck with, but there are others we can choose to walk away from. My time with Darion is over, and it’s not something I really want to revisit except to heal and move forward. </p>
  <p>“As to what inspires my music, what inspires anyone’s music? I just create what I know, and when I find out something new, I add that in. The most important thing is to just keep on creating, because when it comes down to it, we usually only get one shot, and I would rather spend mine putting something new and beautiful in the world than waiting for someone else to do it.”</p>
  <p><em> Lindamehtar </em> is now available for download on audio platforms everywhere.</p>
</blockquote>
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